Knock Knock: My Dad's Dream for Me, by Daniel Beaty and Bryan Collier, is about a boy who has a special bond with his father (illustrated by a game that they play in which the father Knock Knocks on the door each morning, and the son pretends to be asleep). One day, however, the dad stops coming. The boy's sense of loss is palpable. He leaves his father a note, hoping that perhaps he will come while the boy is in school. And eventually, he does receive a letter in response, a letter in which his dad spells out his hopes for the son's future. The items from the letter are accompanied by images of the boy growing up, and having a family of his own, gradually becoming more hopeful, but always missing his lost father.

The reason for the dad's absence is not spelled out in the text. However, in an author's note, Beaty indicates that the book was written in partial response to his own experience as a boy having his father incarcerated. He doesn't specifically spell that out as the boy's experience in the book, allowing Knock Knock to also speak to the experiences of kids whose fathers just leave, or even pass away. It is a very powerful story, one that too many children will be able to relate to.

I do not plan to share Knock Knock: My Dad's Dream for Me with my own four year old. Right now, I don't want to even put the idea into her head that there are daddies who stop coming home. When she is older, though, I would certainly like her to read it. And I think it's an important book for kids who have experienced the loss of a parent, due to whatever means, and whatever their skin color and socioeconomic status. Although the dad doesn't ever come home in Knock Knock, the ending, showing the boy as a loving parent himself, is hopeful.

Beaty uses repeats of the "KNOCK KNOCK" to lend a certain lyricism to the text in the later part of the book. Like this:

"KNOCK KNOCK down the doors that I could not.

KNOCK KNOCKto open new doors of your dreams.

KNOCK KNOCK for me, for as long as you become your best,the best of me still lives in you."

In the earlier parts of the book, we hear the boy's voice more directly: "Papa, come home, 'cause I miss you." But throughout the book, we see the boy captured in Collier's watercolor and collage illustrations. His sadness as he looks at a hat of his father's, left on the kitchen table. His calendar, with the days of his father's absence crossed off. His stowing away of the precious letter from his father, next to a left-behind necktie.

Knock Knock: My Dad's Dream for Me is a book that will stay with readers for a long time. It's an absolute must-purchase for libraries. It is not upbeat, and probably not for the very youngest of readers, but it is important, and recommended.

Have You Seen My Dragon? by Steve Light is part counting book, part seek-and-find, and part dragon story. A small boy leaves his apartment building, asking (the reader? the doorman?) "Have you seen my dragon?" The dragon ("1 Dragon"), shown in green against a black and white background, is hiding not very effectively behind a potted tree. But the boy doesn't see, and sets out across the city to look for the dragon.

On the next page, the boy thinks: "Maybe he got hungry and stopped for a hot dog." A little banner near the top of the page announces: "2 Hot dogs". There are two hot dogs shown on the page, in brown, against, again, black and white background. The dragon is visible (not colored) atop the hot dog stand, again not seen by the boy. And so on, up until the boy finally finds the dragon, on a page spread with "20 lanterns."

Light's illustrations cover various aspects of cities, from buses to shopping districts to monkeys in a zoo, from cathedrals to bridges to taxi cabs. He plays with perspective a bit. Some scenes are shown sideways, while others are a mix of upside down, right side up, and sideways. There is sometimes a path for the boy to follow across an image, though not always. The items that the reader is supposed to look for are never very difficult to find (given that they are the only colored items on each page), making this more a book to practice counting than to truly seek and find. But there are myriad details on each page, to reward close observation (as in Zephyr's Flight, by the same author, though the feel of the two books is quite different).

Have You Seen My Dragon? is a fun book for kids who enjoy counting, and for kids who like poring over detailed illustrations. There's not much of a narrative story to it, and it's not a very good bedtime or group storytime book (requiring too much engagement with the pictures). But it's full of visual details that linger in the reader's memory, and is an ode to cities, too. Libraries will definitely want to take a look.

Louise Loves Art by Kelly Light is about a little girl who loves to draw and who also loves her copycat little brother, Art. As is evident from the cover image, Louise Loves Art is a bright, cheerful tale. Louise is occupied with her drawing, determined to produce a masterpiece. She largely ignores Art's attempts to gain her attention (though in a benign way). But when Louise leaves her masterpiece lying on the floor, within range of toddler Art, well, the situation gets a bit sticky. Happily, however, Louise is astute enough in the end discern which Art she loves best, and respond accordingly.

Light's text captures the tone of busy kindergartner (or someone in that approximate age range). Louise is enthusiastic about everything. Like this:

"I love art! It's my imagination on the outside."

And this:

"I've done it.So fierce! So feline! So fantastic...a masterpiece!"

But it's the illustrations (black Prismacolor pencils and Photoshop) that make Louise Loves Art a delight. Louise is round-faced and spiky-banged, with enormous red glasses. Not quite realistic, but utterly likable. Her exaggerated expressions and postures capture her excitement and (when her masterpiece is cut up) dismay.

Light uses minimal color in the illustrations, but highlights important things (like the glasses) with red. She dots each page with details, like the humorous sketches on Louise's wall (many signed with a red L), and the red glasses that Art draws and cuts out (to be like his sister). In the hallway, unremarked, readers may notice a picture of a younger Louise, still with red glasses, holding a baby Art. A subtle hint that yes, she does love her brother.

I'm not sure that the ending of Louise Loves Art is 100% realistic, but it is sure to make readers (and parents) smile. Louise Loves Art celebrates the joy of creation, and also celebrates sibling relationships. Reviewed from a library copy, this one is now on my wish list. Highly recommended.

Mark of the Thief is the first book in Jennifer Nielsen's new Praetor War series, set in ancient Rome. When a slave boy who works in the mines discovers (and appropriates) a magical artifact that last belong to Julius Caesar, his life is changed forever. Nic soon finds himself able to do magic, but still relatively powerless as a pawn between rival Roman senators and other officials. There ware twists and turns, magical animals, and Roman baths. This is a very fun series launch, certain to be popular with upper middle grade and middle school fans of fantasy and adventure.

Despite the differences in setting and use of magic, Mark of the Thief has a similar feel to the books in Nielsen's Ascendance trilogy. Nic's voice brings Sage's voice to mind, at least a bit, though the two boys come from very different backgrounds. Both boys are stubborn, arrogant beyond their current station, and fiercely loyal.

This is not a bad thing -- fans of the Ascendance series (I am one myself) are going to simply gobble up Mark of the Thief. I read it in a single day, enjoying the layers of secrets that Nielsen reveals, as well as the tidbits of historical background about ancient Rome. I can't say that Nic's voice feels particularly Roman (or slave-like) to me, but I think that any attempt to do this differently might have rendered the book too difficult to read. Here's the opener:

"In Rome, nothing mattered more than the gods, and nothing mattered less than its slaves. Only a food of a slave would ever challenge the gods' power.

I was beginning to look like that fool.

I was a slave in the mines south of Rome and, generally speaking, did my job well. I worked hard and kept my head down and even took orders without complaint -- unless it was a stupid order, one that risked my life. Then I was just as happy to ignore it." (Page 1)

Mark of the Thief also features a strong female character, Aurelia, whom the reader senses early on will become important to Nic. There are a number of other characters whose loyalty is unclear, as well as a kidnapped sister who Nic worries about. There's also a somewhat cranky griffin, which is pretty cool. There are also plenty of intriguing settings. A couple of key scenes take place in the Flavian Amphitheater, where gladiators fight, another occurs in a vineyard.

I think in a way, in reading this book, I was harmed by having read The False Prince books. I was expecting twists and hidden identities. So it was tough for Nielsen to surprise me. But I nonetheless enjoyed Mark of the Thief very much. I'm certain that kids are going to love it, and I look forward to the next book. A must-purchase for libraries, and a great gift item for any fantasy adventure fan (male or female), ages 10 and up.

I resisted reading Victoria Laurie's When because the premise seemed to similar to that of another book I had already read (Numbers by Rachel Ward). In both books, a teenage girl has spent her life seeing a set of numbers whenever she looks at people. At some point in her childhood she has figured out that the numbers are the dates that people will die. This knowledge eventually gets her into unwitting trouble with the law, even though she is just trying to help people. Yeah, same premise.

But Leila Roy (who had also read Numbers) called When "entirely entertaining" anyway, and I decided to give it a go. And I'm glad I did. I found When to be the most fast-paced, engaging book that I've read in several months. I did NOT fall asleep when reading it in bed (as I do with almost everything lately), and I read the whole thing in 2 days. I was also irritated when people tried to talk to me when I was reading - always a sign that a book has my full attention.

When features 16-year-old Maddie Fynn, daughter of a barely functioning alcoholic mother and a deceased cop father. Maddie is bright and hard-working, but also a bit of an outcast, bullied at school, and with only one friend, a geeky boy nicknamed Stubby. To keep her mother in vodka, she runs a little business telling people about their death dates. When she warns a woman that he son is expected to die next week, the woman responds badly. When the son disappears on his way home from school, on the appointed day, Maddie becomes a suspect, and is grilled by the FBI. Things rapidly spiral worse from there.

I'm not normally a fan of what I call the "hapless suspect" books - where someone ends up being investigated by the police for something that they clearly didn't do. But I was willing to give When a pass on this, because Maddie remained a strong character, and because the action was so suspenseful. There are one or two aspects of the book that I might quibble over, but I found the characterization in When strong, and the pacing excellent. I wasn't sure who the bad guy was until the end. There were a number of possibilities, and Laurie had me second-guessing all sorts of people's motives. She made me care about Maddie, and I had to keep reading to find out what happened to her.

I would recommend When more for high schoolers and adults than for middle schoolers. There are torture murders (though these occur offscreen), and the portrait of life with an alcoholic parent is fairly grim. The bullying to which Maddie is subjected is also pretty harsh (though probably not unrealistic). While generally a fast-paced thriller, I do think that When offers some food for discussion for parents and teens who co-read the book (Should you intervene when someone is being bullied? Is one's fate pre-determined?).

I recommend When for anyone (teen or adult) looking for a fast-paced, intriguing mystery. If you haven't read Numbers, so much the better, but even if you have, When is a very different book, and well worth a look. I especially enjoyed the ending.

I Am Cow, Hear Me Moo! by Jill Esbaum and Gus Gordon is the story of a cow named Nadine who claims not to be afraid of anything, not even the dark, overgrown n woods. When Nadine's friends call her on her bluff ("just to prove it, let's go"), she discovers that she DOES like the woods. Well, during the day, at least. But when she ends up alone in the woods at night, the reader certainly sees that Nadine isn't so brave. When Nadine emerges unscathed, she neglects to tell anyone else that she wasn't, in fact, a hero. By the end of the book, despite Nadine's fears, the other animals are advertising "Sunset Tours" from "Brave Nadine."

I suppose there's a bit of an implied message in I Am Cow, Hear Me MOO! to the effect that one must be careful about bragging of capabilities that do not exist, as one may be called upon to demonstrate said abilities. But Nadine never actually learns this lesson, which makes I Am Cow, Hear Me MOO! fall on the side of straight-up funny. Esbaum's rhyming text is enjoyable to read aloud, and sometimes laugh-out-loud humor. Like this:

A flawed heroine who does not learn her lesson. I love it! I Am Cow, Hear Me MOO! is full of sound effects and fun words and laughs large and small. Gordon's illustrations, "created using watercolor, pencils, crayons, and collage" add fun details to reward close reading. On the second page, Nadine is reading "Fire Breathing got Bovines." When she is scared, her eyes are huge and round.

The collage aspect of the illustrations works especially well, as various portions of the pictures are shown with unusual textures, like silos that seem to be cut out of graph paper, and a pine tree crudely made out of taped together green rippled fabric (or paper, or something).

I Am Cow, Hear Me MOO! is read-aloud friendly and humorous, with a distinctive illustration style. I think that it will work best for preschooler, kids old enough to appreciate the humor, and young enough to accept the absurdities of the story without question. Recommended for group read-aloud, though probably a better fit for one-on-one parent/child reading, where one can look at the illustrations in detail, and perhaps discuss how Nadine ended up in trouble. This is a fun one!

Tiara Saurus Rex, by Brianna Caplan Sayres and Mike Boldt, is a dinosaur book for tiara-wearing, dress-up-loving girls (or a beauty pageant book for dinosaur-obsessed boys who have a yen for sparkle, I suppose). The Miss Dinosaur pageant is taking place. Dinosaurs of various types prance about, excited, in their fancy clothes. But one by one, the other dinosaurs disappear from view, to the refrain: "Beware ... Tina has to win." Tina Saurus Rex eventually wins the crown because "There are no other girls."

There is a twist at the end involving one remaining dinosaur, but the others are never seen again. For tender-hearted readers, there is a hint that the others have run away, rather than, say, been eaten by Tina. But I say it's no coincidence that the "Saurus Rex" is the last one standing.

Sayres uses rhyming text with enough variation in structure to keep it from being sing-songy. Like this (over 3 page spreads):

"Dino pageant day is here!They stampede through the door.Each creature hopes that she'll be crownedthe next Miss Dinosaur.

They put their lipstick on with care,give their mirrors one last stare.

But makeup artists warn, "Beware...Tina has to win.""

She uses strong vocabulary works like "contender" and "brilliant." This vocabulary, combined with the mystery around the disappearance of most of the characters, makes me agree with the publisher's recommendation of five and up for Tiara Saurus Rex. Personally, I found the text a bit stilted in places. But I did enjoy the puns that Sayres uses for some of the dinosaur names, like "Teri Dactyl" and "Sarah Topps". She conveys facts about these dinosaur types, too, with Teri flying about, and Sarah using her three horns to twirl hula hoops.

Illustrator Mike Boldt (123 versus ABC) clearly delights in displaying the dinosaurs, particularly Tina, with her sly smile. The dinosaurs are not shown to scale, exactly, and they are shown in brighter colors than one normally sees used for dinosaurs (purple, teal, orange). But there are enough visual clues for interested readers to tie these dinosaurs to those shown in more traditional representations. And for those who just care about the beauty pageant, well, they can appreciate the emeralds used to decorate the spines of Stef O'Saurus, and the four-inch heels in Patty Saurus's broad feet. Boldt uses a riot of color, and an appropriate mix of preening and nervous expressions. Tina's tiara, as well as the letters of the title, are sparkly on the cover of my advanced copy.

And there you have it. A hybrid beauty pageant / dinosaur book, with rhyming text and over-the-top illustrations. Tiara Saurus Rex is not going to be for everyone, but it stands a good chance of broadening the perspective of dress-up fans and dinosaur fans alike, blurring traditional gender boundaries along the way.

The Case of the Missing Moonstone is the first book in a very fun new mystery series for younger middle grade readers. The Wollstonecraft Detective Agency series features the imagined adventures of two real-life historical figures: Lady Ada Byron (daughter of the poet, and who has been called the world's first computer programmer) and Mary Godwin (author of Frankenstein, and who has been called the world's first science writer). In Jordan Stratford's reimagined history, Ada and Mary are close in age (unlike their actual 18 year age difference), and become friends after sharing a tutor. Together, these two largely unsupervised girls form a detective agency.

The author includes a brief preface, as well as a more extensive notes section at the end of the book, outlining the historical vs. fictional elements of the story. He slips in various other historical figures thought the story, profiling them at the end. But the primary focus of The Case of the Missing Moonstone is on Ada and Mary.

Stratford's characterization, particularly in regards to Ada, is quite strong. Ada is a quirky genius who would perhaps be diagnosed on the autism spectrum today. She fears leaving her house (though she is brave when necessary), has little thought for the people around her (not even aware of her maid's name), and sees mysteries in terms of variables to be fit together. She is dirty and sometimes rude, and altogether a breath of fresh air.

Mary's nature as a writer, as well as her uncomfortable status as being from a lower social order than Ada, come across clearly also. She is an observer who often sees things in a poetic way, and she's also a pragmatist who can sometimes balance Ada's quirks. Her admiration for the tutor, who has the initials PBS, is a little inside joke for the adult reader. Here's an example of Mary's (limited third person) voice:

"Pitter clop splosh badunk? Clop splosh badunk pitter.

Mary listened to this conversation between the coach, the horse, the cobblestones, and the rain, but felt she had little to add. Instead, she observed the unexpected stranger seated opposite her." (Page 17)

and:

"Mary entered Ada's bedroom for the first time. The word "disaster" presented itself to Mary. It does a good job of describing things like earthquakes and mudslides and tornadoes, but it was simply not up to the task of describing Ada's bedroom. Mary suddenly felt sorry for the word." (Page 37)

The mystery itself is interesting and age-appropriate. The solution turns on a word which is reasonably well-known today, but was something new and unknown at the time of the story. There is some rather implausible action here and there, but I think that young readers will find it fun.

Stratford's writing style is well-suited to the historical time period, a little bit formal ("Ada continued to look displeased..."), but not so much so as to be over the heads of the target audience. Like this:

"Mary followed, thinking of poor Anna Cumberland (the maid), who would have to clean up Ada's mess once again, if "once again" meant "all the time without stopping ever." (Page 129)

The Case of the Missing Moonstone also includes regular black and white illustrations, generous line spacing, and a light humor that makes it work well for readers on the younger end of the middle grade spectrum. Kelly Murphy's illustrations help bring Ada and Mary, and the time period, to life for readers. The girls' hair and dresses convey the time period, even as other details to the pictures lend humor to the story.

The average 9-year-old reader is not going to know much of anything about the historical figures starring in The Wollstonecraft Detective Agency. But I think that Ada and Mary are strong enough characters, as portrayed in this book, to hold any young reader's attention. Bonus points for both protagonists being strong young women, each somewhat ahead of her time (but not in an unrealistic way, given that, you know, they were real people). The Wollstonecraft Detective Agency: The Case of the Missing Moonstone has an intriguing plot and plenty of humor. I think that it will make a very nice addition to the ranks of mystery series for elementary age readers. Recommended!

Publisher: Knopf Books for Young Readers (@RandomHouseKids) Publication Date: January 6, 2015Source of Book: Review copy from the publisher

Sparky! by Jenny Offill and Chris Appelhans is a new entry into the picture book sub-genre of kids with unusual pets. The beginning of Sparky! reminded me quite a bit of A Promise Is A Promise by Florence Parry Heide and Tony Auth in which, after several crazy attempts at pets are shot down, a boy ends up with a pet parrot. In Sparky!, a girl keeps asking and asking for a pet, and is finally told that she can have a pet if she can find one that "doesn't need to be waked or bathed or fed." The girl comes up with a sloth. Sparky! is the story of what it's like to have one of "the laziest animals in the world" as one's pet.

Sparky mostly just sleeps in a tree. He's not very good at King of the Mountain or Hide-and-Seek, but he's champion at Statue. When a (not very understanding) girl from school criticizes Sparky, the narrator attempts to teach him tricks, and hosts a performance. The results are not impressive. In the end, however, (and this is conveyed in a subtle fashion) the girl makes peace with the limitations of her pet, and just appreciates him.

While unusual pet stories are fairly common, Sparky! has a nice, subtle humor that worked for me. Like this:

"That weekend, Mary Potts came over to investigate.Let me show you what Mary Potts is like.This is a picture of her room."

The accompanying picture shows a drawing (like a kid drew it) of a big-mouthed girl. Certificates hang on her wall for "Excellence in Permission-Slip Compliance" and "Most Likely to Chew Close-Mouthed in Lunchroom."

I think what I like is that the narrator just quietly keeps trying. She never complains about having a somewhat lame pet. When she holds a show for Sparky she dresses in a crown and cape and asks her mother "Do I look like a ringmaster?" Her mother tells her "You look very interesting." I respected the mother's ability to be honest without being mean.

Appelhans' watercolor and pencil illustrations match the tone of Sparky! He uses a muted palette and minimalist backgrounds. He perfectly captures the droopiness of Sparky pretty much all the time and the girl's quiet hopefulness.

Sparky! is not a dramatic, exciting sort of book. Instead, it's the kind of book that makes readers smile, and that you appreciate more on the second reading than on the first. Sparky! is a quiet celebration of loyalty towards an unconventional friend. I read this from a library copy, but I am strongly tempted to purchase my own copy. Recommended, particularly for first and second graders.

Ninja Red Riding Hood, written by Corey Rosen Schwartz and illustrated by Dan Santat, is a version of Little Red Riding Hood in which the wolf, after getting picked on for a while, sneaks into o ninja school to be trained. He figures that with his new skills, Little Red Riding Hood will be an easy target. However (as any astute reader will be expecting from the title and cover), it turns out that Red also has ninja training. Even Gran turns out to know tai chi, and the wolf is utterly defeated.

I had mixed feeling about Ninja Red Riding Hood. It's nice to see a Red Riding Hood who can defend herself, and a little old granny who can defend herself. And I can see the various details about martial arts being of interest to kids (and perhaps even driving interest in martial arts). It's a nicely multicultural book, too, with what appears to be an Asian setting (Japanese, perhaps?). But the end of the book, in which the wolf is forced to give up red meat, and enrolls in a mediation retreat, felt like a bit ... much. Is the author trying to get an anti-red meat message out there, or is it just meant to be a lesson for the carnivorous wolf?

That said, it's a fun read-aloud, with some advanced vocabulary, and a bouncy (but not rigid) rhyme scheme:

"Drooling with anticipation,he set off in search of some meat.While deep in the wood,he met Riding Hood.

"I'm bringing my grandma a treat."

The wolf licked his chops when he saw herand hastily thought up a plan.

"There are blossoms that way!You can pick a bouquet!to give to your little old gran.""

Here the second paragraph is in a text bubble from Riding Hood, and the last is in a text bubble from the wolf. This format takes a tiny bit of getting used to - the rhymes carrying across narrative text and dialog - but it worked fine for us.

Santat's illustrations ("done with Sumi brush work on rice paper and completed in Adobe Photoshop"), are action-filled, with a moderately cartoon-like aspect. The disguised wolf in his ninja school clothing and glasses is quite funny. The forest in which the wolf finds Red features trees of bamboo, adding to the Asian feel of the story. When dressed as Gran, the wolf holds a painted fan, and her house looks Japanese. Red, once she loses her cape, is feisty and pig-tailed, while Gran looks downright tough.

Ninja Red Riding Hood is a modern, diverse twist on an old story, with read-aloud-friendly text and dynamic illustrations.

Clover's Luck is the first book in the new Magical Animal Adoption Agency early chapter book series by Kallie George, with illustrations by Alexandra Boiger. Clover's Luck is about a little girl named Clover who has always been (or at least perceived herself to be) terribly unlucky. One day, when Clover has her pet canary out of its cage, a baseball comes through her window, and the canary escapes (bad luck indeed).

Clover follows the canary into The Woods, a mysterious forest into which people from her town never venture. There, Clover finds an ad seeking volunteers for the Magical Animal Adoption Agency (MAAA). At loose ends for the summer, Clover decides to volunteer. At the MAAA, Clover learns that magic is real. The MAAA is home to unicorns, a color-changing enchanted frog, and even a small dragon, all of which need to find good homes. When the proprietor of the MAAA goes out of town unexpectedly, leaving Clover in charge, she encounters a witch, and has a series of adventures.

Clover's Luck is perfect fare for young readers who are charmed by magic, and who enjoy animals. There are black and white pencil illustrations every few pages, mostly small, but some full-page, bringing the magical animals and the determined Clover to life. At ten chapters and 128 pages, Clover's Luck is a couple of steps beyond easy readers, but still short enough to be unintimidating for relatively new readers. Here are a couple of quotes, to give a feel for the difficulty level of the text:

"She was so distracted thinking about magical animals that she dropped and broke not just her glass but also her plate when she was doing the dishes. And at bedtime, her toothbrush slipped in into the soap dish, and no matter how much she rinsed it, it still tasted like soap." (Page 21, ARC)

"A dark and far-off look came over Mr. Jams. He turned to Clover. "Many people want magical animals, but not all of them for the right reasons. Our creatures are meant for those who truly deserve them, those with good hearts. The animals at our Agency aren't possessions to be shown off, but companions, pets to be loved and cared for." (Page 40)

Clover is a delightful protagonist, somewhat lacking in self-confidence, but determined to do the right thing. She has conveniently neglectful parents, and is thrust into a position of responsibility beyond her years, but while she worries, she never shirks her new responsibilities. She grows emotionally over the course of the book, too (no mean feat for such a brief story).

George does come down quite directly on questions of right and wrong and looking on the bright side in this book, but for me, she stays on the right side of lesson-y. Things become clear to the reader as they become clear to Clover.

In short, Clover's Luck is a delightful addition to the ranks of early chapter books. I look forward to future titles in the series, and hope that they are available in time for my almost five-year-old to appreciate them.

The premise of Dan Santat's The Adventures of Beekle: An Unimaginary Friend is that there exists an island where imaginary friends of all shapes and sizes live until they are called into service by a child. One particular little guy - he looks rather like a marshmallow with limbs - gets tired of waiting and sets out on a journey to find his human friend. He is at first taken aback by the oddities of the real world. However, he finds himself drawn to a kid-filled playground, where he eventually meets Alice, and is named Beekle. I found Beekle, book and character, to be both creative and charming.

The Adventures of Beekle essentially posits that imaginary friends are real, though not everyone can see them. My six-year-old self would have loved this idea. (Though as an adult I find that the notion that my daughter's imaginary imaginary little brother might be real is a bit disturbing.) Dan Santat uses relatively minimal text, allowing the pictures to tell much of the story. Like this:

"His mind filled with thoughts of all the amazing things that were keeping his friend from imaging him.

So rather than waiting... (page turn)

... he did the unimaginable."

Here the first page spread shows a night sky filled with images of a boy reading books, holding up a soccer trophy, playing a guitar, etc. The next page shows Beekle, tiny but determined, in a little boat, crossing sea-monster-filled orange and yellow waves. Santat is able to convey Beekle's loneliness and bewilderment throughout his journey. But the best page shows a series of vignettes of Beekle and Alice's first interactions: their awkwardness and uncertainty and, in time, their joy. Only then do we see Beekle smile. I personally was quite happy for Beekle at that point. If there was a soft, squishy Beekle stuffed animal, I would probably buy it.

The Adventures of Beekle: The Unimaginary Friend is delight from start to finish. Recommended for library or home use for kids age three to six.

My daughter and I have both enjoyed the Hot Rod Hamster picture books, by Cynthia Lord and Derek Anderson (see reviews here of the first book and of Hot Rod Hamster: Monster Truck Mania). Now that my daughter is in the very earliest stages of learning to read, it's wonderful to learn that Hot Rod Hamster has launched an early reader series. The first book, which we read from a library copy, was Hot Rod Hamster and the Wacky Whatever Race! The second book, the one I am discussing here, is Hot Rod Hamster and the Awesome ATV Adventure!

The Awesome ATV Adventure! begins as Hamster and his friends set out one sunny day, looking for adventure. They soon encounter a sign for "Al's Awesome ATV Adventures", promising "Bumps! Jumps! Down and dirty fun!". Having lots of experience with Hamster's personality, my daughter and I knew immediately that he would be on board for some ATV riding.

As in the picture books, the text in The Awesome ATV Adventure! includes a mix of dialog and narration, where the narration is in the form of asking the reader to choose between Hamster's next set of options. Like this:

"Three-wheeler.Four-wheeler.Track wheeler.More wheeler.

Which would you choose?'

My four year old enjoys both predicting what Hamster will choose and discussing what she would choose (often not the same thing). For example, when Hamster is given a choice of courses for his ATV ride, it's pretty clear that he is NOT going to take the safe little path through the woods, even if the very safety of this option is what appeals to my real-world child.

This question structure works well in the early reader format. There's a fair bit of repetition (as in "wheeler" above), and there are also little pictures that go along with each choice, providing visual cues. The Awesome ATV Adventure! is still moderately challenging as early readers go, with words like "delighted" and "zooms".

The Hot Rod Hamster readers are written by Cynthia Lord, but the books are "based on the art of Derek Anderson", rather than being fully illustrated by him. In this smaller, paperback format, I really don't think that I would have noticed any difference had I not been looking for it. If I look closely at The Awesome ATV Adventure!, I do note what may be a more limited range of facial expressions on Hamster vs in the picture books (here, he smiles throughout). But this seems reasonable to me, given the format, and given the dynamic nature of the book as a whole.

Hot Rod Hamster and the Awesome ATV Adventure! is bright, engaging early reader that features a picture book character beloved by many preschoolers. Hamster in this new adventure retains his trademark enthusiasm for everything (especially speed), with only modest tweaks required to make the book work in an early reader format. Highly recommended for fans of the series, and a must-purchase for libraries and classrooms serving new readers.

What is it about moose in picture books? They are always causing trouble. First it was the moose in Kelly Bingham and Paul Zelinsky's Z is for Moose (and sequel). Now we have a moose who wants to be an astronaut in This Is a Moose by Richard T. Morris and Tom Lichtenheld.

An increasingly frustrated director named Billy Waddler (unseen until the end of the book) is trying to film a documentary about a moose. But the moose, by professing to want to be an astronaut, does not meet the director's expectations. And when the moose's lacrosse-playing grandma shows up, followed by a giraffe who wants to be a doctor (and doesn't even belong in the film's forest setting), things get out of hand.

This Is a Moose is pure fun. There are some actual details about filming, and a glossary is included at the end, but one knows from the earliest pages that This Is a Moose is a book that doesn't take itself too seriously. Here's a snippet, to give you a feel for Morris' text:

""Cut! Cut! CUT!!Listen to Me! All animalsare going to play their properroles from NoW ON!! Understood?

This is a moose--Take Five!"

"But we can'tTake Five."

"The moose is in outer space!""

What I can't convey here is the look of the above text, rendered (with at least some hand-lettering) in a mix of capital and lower case letters, in various sizes and colors, with underlining and multi-colored exclamation points for emphasis. One would have to be a robot to read this book aloud without using dramatic voices. The director is like a cartoon character having a temper tantrum.

Lichtenheld perfectly captures the nobility of the moose who wants to be an astronaut. He has an initially proud stance, but when his dream is stepped on by the director, his dejection shows in features and posture. He is unquestionably heroic. The grandmother comes across as sillier, with pink lipstick, a helmet, and pearls, while the other animals are somewhere in between.

Lichtenehld is excellent at capturing action, particularly the "SPROING!!" when the moose (spoiler alert) is launched into outer space. All of this is set against a soothing forest background with pine trees and a lake - anyone would know that the film is being made in Maine.

This Is a Moose gives young readers a character to root for, while teaching them a little bit about film production. The dramatic, exclamation-mark filled text is fun to read aloud, and has a satisfying ending. The illustrations add to the book's humor. There is a subtle message to be inferred from the book, to the effect that one doesn't have to follow in the footsteps of one's parents. But this message is deeply covered in over-the-top, kid-friendly goofiness. This Is a Moose would make a wonderful title for group storytime in the library or the classroom. Recommended!

Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers (@LBKids)Publication Date: May 6, 2014Source of Book: Bought it

Imani's Moon is a new picture book by JaNay Brown-Wood and Hazel Mitchell about a little girl from the African Maasai tribe who is determined, after hearing stories from her mother, to touch the moon. Imani is the smallest child in her village, and is ridiculed by the larger children ("She's no higher than a lion cub's knee", etc). Every night, her mother "lift(s) her spirits with stories". The story of Olapa, goddess of the moon, in particular catches Imani's fancy. She tries various ways to get to the moon (climbing a tree, building wings, etc.). Eventually, after being inspired by seeing young warriors of the village perform a dance jumping dance of celebration, Imani tries jumping (and jumping, and jumping), and meets with success.

Imani's Moon is magical realism in picture book form. Imani's interactions with her mother, and the village children, are realistic. But, in addition to visiting the moon, she also talks with a snake and an owl (who both talk back). Some scenes are portrayed in the book as dream sequences, but the visit to the moon is shown straight-up. Imani jumps all day, higher and higher, against creatures who doubt her and taunt her, until, on her final jump, she "soar(s) through the night sky."

Of course Imani's Moon is also a demonstration of multiculturalism, giving young readers a window into life in a Maasai village. The unfamiliar setting, as well as Brown-Wood's detailed text, make Imani's Moon more a book for elementary school children than for preschoolers. Here's a snippet:

"That night Mama told Imani about Anansi, the small spider who captured a snake to gain a name for himself.

"Mama, do you really believe that a spider, so small and weak, could really capture a snake, so long and quick?" Imani asked.

"I do," answered Mama.

"Even if no one else believes it?" Imani asked.

"A challenge is only impossible until someone accomplished it," Mama said. "Imani, it only you who must believe."

Imani drifted to sleep and dreamed that she climbed to the top of the highest tree in her village, captured a snake, and made a name for herself."

As you can see, this passage (as with most of the book) has the timeless feel of a folktale. As with most folktales, there is strongly implied advice (e.g. taking on challenges). But by keeping the book focused entirely on Imani's story, the author avoids any feel of lecturing.

Mitchell's illustrations ("created with watercolor and graphite then over-painted digitally") are luminous and eye-catching. Imani is small and mild-featured. Her determination is quiet and gentle. Her expression as she jumps upward is quizzical, and ready for anything. The backgrounds in the pictures, particularly the night sky, convey a sense of wide space.

Imani's Moon is a book that answers the ever-louder call for diverse books. Though most kids reading this book in the US will not be able to relate directly to Imani's African village, many will welcome seeing a brave heroine with brown skin. And all kids will be able to relate to this tale of a tiny person who, by repeatedly trying, is able to accomplish and outside goal. Recommended, particularly for libraries.

I'm A Dirty Dinosaur is a picture book by Janeen Brian and Ann James, imported from Australia by Kane Miller. It's a short book aimed at the youngest of listeners. The very simple plot involves a dinosaur who gets progressively more dirty from page to page, and finally take a bath in a swamp at the end of the book. What lifts this book above the ordinary is that after each new progression of dirtiness there is a page with bouncy sounds to which kids can learn to sing along. For example:

"I'm a dirty dinosaurwith a dirty snout.

I never wipe it cleanI just sniff and snuff about."

The above is shown as regular text across a single page spread, with illustrations of the dirty-faced dinosaur on each page. Then on the next page, in big, multi-colored letters that encourage singing or shouting, we have:

SNIFF, SNIFF,SNUFF, SNUFF,SNIFF ANDSNUFF ABOUT!

It's pretty obvious as the book moves along, and the dinosaur gets dirtier, that he's going to eventually end up clean. Too obvious for older kids, I think. But toddlers will get a real kick out of the dirty dinosaur, and especially the energetic and colorful refrains.

James' illustrations are minimalist, with the dinosaur merely outlined, and a few splashed of brown paint added for dirt. These are the kinds of illustrations that feel accessible to young kids, as though they could draw a dinosaur and add dirt paint to him, too.

In terms of format, I'm A Dirty Dinosaur is a 10 by 10 book with thick pages, not quite as stiff as a board book, but more robust than regular paper. The story starts right on the inside cover, like in a board book. Apart from the brown of the dirt and the white of the background, the colors are bright, mostly primary colors. The cover looks as though it was finger-painted. All in all, quite friendly for the youngest of readers.

I'm A Dirty Dinosaur is a fun book for toddlers that encourages them to memorize and sing along with certain sounds. Young kids will identify with the way it celebrates being dirty, and appreciate the bright colors. Recommended for home or early preschool use.

Have You Seen My New Blue Socks? is a highly read-aloudable picture book by Eve Bunting and Sergio Ruzzier. It's the story of a little green duck who, as the title would suggest, is unable to find a new pair of blue socks. He knows that he put them somewhere nearby, but can't remember where. He asks various friends for help, but no one knows. Until a helpful peacock finally spots a glimpse of a blue sock.

The beauty of this book is that way that Bunting channels Dr. Seuss in her rhyming text, while still giving Have You Seen My New Blue Socks? a fresh, original feel. Like this:

"Peacocks? Have you seen my socks?I did not put them in my box.I asked my good friend Mr. Fox.I asked my good friend Mr. Ox.Peacocks? Have you seen my socks?They are such a pretty blue!I just got them. They are new."

Have You Seen My New Blue Socks? is a pure joy to read aloud, pretty much impossible to stop once one has started. And really, who can't relate to the frustrating of losing a beloved item, especially a beloved item that is new?

[My four year old daughter, on her first reading of the book, guessed where the socks were on the second page. Then later she was excited to point out her first glimpse of the socks (exactly where she had thought that they would be). This in no way diminished her enjoyment of the book - I think it enhanced it by making her feel clever and/or observant.]

Ruzzier's pen and ink and watercolor illustrations convey clearly the disgruntlement of the little duck, and the concern on the part of his friends. The concerned blue peacocks, tails quiet, are particularly appealing. The color scheme is relatively muted. Ruzzier includes absurd details here and there, like the fact that Mr. Ox is painting a watercolor of a twisted tree, sitting on a little footstool.

Between the rhyming text and the gentle illustrations, not to mention the universal theme, Have You Seen My New Blue Socks? is a perfect read-aloud for preschoolers. It would make a nice, soothing bedtime book, at least on subsequent reads, once the suspense of the location of the socks has been satisfied. Highly recommended (and long overdue for this review)!

I enjoyed Jennifer Allison's first book about Iggy Loomis, and was happy to accept a copy of the second book in this entertaining illustrated chapter book series. This review will contain spoilers for the first book.

The Iggy Loomis books are narrated by an elementary school age-boy named Daniel Loomis. At the start of this second book, Daniel has a best friend named Alistair who is an alien in disguise. An incident in the first book led to Daniel's preschool-age brother Iggy developing super bug powers. When happy or stressed or just tickled the right way, Iggy does things like sprout wings or extra legs. Daniel has managed to keep this situation a secret from their parents, but Iggy's twin, Dottie, is happily in the loop. The kids are mostly left to their own devices, but are occasionally beamed up to an alien spaceship for help and/or discipline.

As Iggy Loomis, A Hagfish Called Shirley begins, Alistair has adopted a fairly disgusting pet, the titular hagfish named Shirley. Hagfish are slime-producing eels that normally live in the ocean. Alistair is hiding one from his parents, who don't believe that Blaronites should have pets. Due to a misconception on Iggy's part about what happens to things that are flushed down the toilet, Shirley is, alas, lost. What follows is a mix of realistic "loss of a pet" response and, well, madcap adventures involving an alien and a hybrid bug-boy.

There are more than sufficient references to slime and "poo-poo" to please seven year old readers. Parents should be forewarned, however, that there is an attempt to use a fishing pole to retrieve Shirley from the toilet. Here is Iggy's response:

I suddenly realized that "fishing in the toilet" was probably the worst example we could set for Iggy, who already seems to think of toilets as some kind of playground. "Don't ever this this at home, Iggy," I warned.

The above excerpt highlights my personal favorite thing about the Iggy Loomis books: Iggy's preschool boy voice. Every time Iggy says something like "a couple whiles" I actually hear the voice of a young friend of my daughter's (even though said boy has moved past Iggy in his language development). Iggy's voice, and Dottie's as well, though she's a more minor character, is just dead on. Pitch perfect and hilariously funny. Iggy also has a dead caterpillar in a jar, but tells everyone that it is "napping."

Iggy would be perfect even if he didn't grow "insect parts, like wings, antennae, stingers, and even little bug fangs or claws." The insect parts, of course, add immense kid-appeal, particularly when Iggy is able to use his special skills to save the day.

Iggy Loomis, A Hagfish Named Shirley is chock-full of black and white sketches of Iggy transforming, together with cartoon-like pictures of the other characters acting up and acting out. These illustrations augment (but don't replace) the text, helping to keep the book accessible to relatively new readers. There are 33 short chapters across the book's 200 pages, and plenty of dialog, complete with upper case and italics throughout for emphasis.

Bottom line: Iggy Loomis, A Hagfish Named Shirley is absurdly over-the-top, kid-friendly fun that will, I think, appeal especially to kids who have pesky but lovable preschool-age siblings. For what it's worth, my four-year-old was intrigued by the cover of this book (showing Iggy, Shirley, and the toilet), and asked me to start reading it to her. But when there were no color illustrations inside, she decided to wait until she is five or so. But I think if you had a seven-year-old new reader, one with a tolerance for madcap science fiction, Iggy Loomis, A Hagfish Named Shirley would be the perfect gift. Best to read the books in order, though, so look for Iggy Loomis, Superkid in Training first. This series would be a great pick for an elementary school library, too. Recommended!

Publisher: Dial Books for Young Readers (@PenguinKids) Publication Date: October 9, 2014Source of Book: Review copy from the author

A Chick 'n' Pug Christmas is the latest installment in Jennifer Sattler's Chick 'n' Pug series. Pug is somewhat reluctantly dressed up as Santa Claus, and finds himself teaching the more enthusiastic Chick about the holiday. At Chick's instigation, the two friends set out to spread some Christmas cheer, running into friends, and one nemesis, from prior books. In the end, Chick comes up with the perfect holiday gift for his nap-loving companion, and even finds something that can substitute as a sleigh.

A Chick 'n' Pug Christmas doesn't quite stand alone as a holiday book - it's more about holiday traditions tacked on to a continued exploration of the personalities of Chick and Pug. That is to say, for fans of Chick and Pug, A Chick 'n' Pug Christmas is a lot of fun, and will be hard to resist. But it's more about the characters than the holiday, if that makes any sense.

A Chick 'n' Pug Christas IS funny. For example, when they run across their enemy, Mr. Snuggles (a mean cat), Chick is pleased to see that Mr. Snuggles is dressed as a reindeer and wearing a collar of bells. The text says:

I like Sattler's acrylic and colored pencil illustrations. Chick's sprightly posture and wide-eyed enthusiasm are irresistible, and a perfect counterpoint to Pug's droopy sleepiness. Even the snow is colorful in Sattler's world, swirled with a hint of various shades against the blue/purple background of the sky. The textured backgrounds make the sharp characters stand out more, particularly the yellow Chick, bright agains the snow.

In summary, if you are a fan of Sattler's distinctive illustrations in general, or of Chick 'n' Pug specifically, you'll definitely want to check out A Chick 'n' Pug Christmas. If you aren't familiar with Sattler's work, perhaps start with Chick 'n' Pug, and then come back for this one. I also like Sattler's Sylvie as well as Pig Kahnuna.

The Terrible Two is a new prank and joke-filled illustrated chapter book by Mac Barnett, Jory John, and Kevin Cornell. While not a notebook novel, it is clearly aimed straight at the audience of the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books (and from the same publisher). Based on my reading The Terrible Two, I think that it's going to be a success. It is funny from cover to cover.

The primary protagonist in The Terrible Two is Miles, new student at the Yawnee Valley Science and Letters Academy in the cow-filled small town of Yawnee Valley. Miles was known as the school prankster at his old school. But his hopes of taking on this role at his new school are dashed when he arrives on the first day to find a car blocking the school's front door. The identity of the Yawnee Valley prankster is unknown to Miles, at least for a while, though clever readers will spot a clue on the book's cover.

The Terrible Two is written with a strong slant towards humor. Everything is either wryly tongue-in-cheek or overtly funny. Despite this (and here is why I think that the book will be a success), there is also a fairly strong, linear plot. There is a pair of father and son antagonists, who get a satisfactory comeuppance. The central relationship of the book is between Miles and his pranking counterpart. Other relationships, including those between the boys and their respective parents, are minimal, but this is ok. The focus stays on The Terrible Two.

Here are some snippets, to give you a feel for the book's tone:

"This is Miles Murphy. He's on his way to Yawnee Valley. Let's take a closer look at his face.

Notice the scowl. Notice the gloom. Notice the way his face is pressed against the window and he looks like he's trying to escape." (Chapter 2)

"He ate breakfast: oatmeal on toast, a dish his great-grandfather had invented and deemed "The Breakfast of Barkins." This gave him exactly six minutes to reread his favorite chapter of his favorite book, The 7 Principles of Principal Power." (He being the school principal, of course. Chapter 5)

"Miles had never even heard of before-school detention. Technically, that wasn't even detention. You had to be at school already to be detained. What would you call it? Prevention. Apprehension. Incarceration." (Chapter 27)

There are also assorted facts about cows included at intervals throughout the book, one of which does become a key plot point.

Although heavily illustrated, the length, complexity of the plot and relatively advanced vocabulary ("deemed", "despondently") make this feel more like middle grade than an early chapter book. But the illustrations, as well as various lists, letters, etc., make The Terrible Two accessible for relatively reluctant readers (not to mention the prank-filled plot, of course).

Cornell's cartoon-like illustrations are well-suited to the book. They are highly dynamic, spread in various locations across the pages, and frequently featuring movement by and emotions of the characters. Readers will see Principal Barkins at a bad guy from his very first appearance on the page. The acerbic facial expression of a long-suffering teacher also made me laugh, and added to my understanding of this relatively minor character. There are maps, plans, and dioramas, and, of course, cows.

All in all, I think that The Terrible Two is going to be a huge hit with third grade readers or so, especially (though not limited to) boys. It is also funny without being crude, which will likely please adults, too. Part of the Prankster's Oath, helpfully spelled out, involves disrupting but not destroying. The Terrible Two stays on the right side of mischievous. I hope to see additional books about The Terrible Two. Highly recommended!

My daughter and I quite like Janee Trasler's Chickies series (the previous books are Pottytime for Chickies, Bedtime for Chickies, and Dinnertime for Chickies). Therefore, we were both happy when the newest book in the series, A New Chick for Chickies, arrived. In this installment, the three Chickies have a pretty good life with their three adult caregivers, Cow, Sheep, and Pig.

Everything changes when a new baby brother Chick arrives. Chick immediately starts stealing the adults' attention. Patiently and cheerfully, however, each adult shows the Chickies how having another Chick on-hand will actually improve things. For example, when they protest the new Chick dancing with Pig, Pig says:

"Don't be worried.This is fine.Now we have a conga line."

A New Chick for Chickies is thus a very simple, age-appropriate treatment of the insecurities that toddlers may have when a younger sibling arrives. Like the other books in the series, A New Chick for Chickies consists of short, rhyming sentences accompanied by cheerful, silly illustrations. To be sure, the Chickies look rather grouchy in much of the book, but their caregivers are always able to coax them into a smile. And the end of the book, in which a whole host of other chicks are born, is sure to entertain young readers.

A New Chick for Chickies is a welcome addition to this series of padded board books. Though the Chickie books are clearly meant for toddlers and early preschoolers, my four-year-old has been resisting passing ours along to her younger cousins, because she loves them so much. This series would make a great first birthday gift for any child, and would be welcome under the Christmas tree for preschoolers.

Even though the ending is a bit overtly message-y for my taste, I love the bouncy rhythms of Alice Schertle's Little Blue Truck, and am happy to read it aloud to my daughter at any time. In fact, whenever anyone or anything in our household is stuck we always say: "Help! Help! cried the Little Blue Truck. Beep! Beep! Beep! I'm stuck! I'm stuck!". Thus I was unable to resist requesting a copy of The Little Blue Truck's Christmas when the opportunity came around. And I'm glad I did. The Little Blue Truck's Christmas is going to be a welcome addition to my family's holiday read-alouds.

In The Little Blue Truck's Christmas, Blue stops by his friend Toad's Christmas tree lot, and picks up five trees (all numbered, to add to the book's learning potential for preschoolers). He drops the trees off, one by one, at the homes of his friends, saving the very last one for his own home (where Toad is waiting). On that last page, the lights of the tree twinkle in red, green, yellow and blue, a fun surprise for the young reader.

As a read-aloud, The Little Blue Truck's Christmas is not quite as fun as the original, but it's still upbeat and rhythmic, like this:

""Maaa!" says the goat."This short one, please!"Now there is ONE green Christmas tree."

In the second and third examples, the numbers are colored in red and green, shown bigger than the surrounding text. The trees have numbered tags to reinforce the counting practice. They are added to the truck in numeric order, and then removed in countdown order.

McElmurry's illustrations are warm and cheerful. The homes of all of the animals are different from one another, but all are decorated for Christmas, with colored lights and other forms of Christmas cheer. the goat's home bears a more than passing resemblance to a manger, in a nice, subtle touch. The ground is snowy and the sky starry throughout. And Blue, with his round headlight eyes and a wreath gracing his front grill, is as friendly and loyal as ever.

Young fans of The Little Blue Truck, those who appreciate Christmas, anyway, will love The Little Blue Truck's Christmas. Parents will find it pleasant to read aloud, and ever-so-slightly educational, with a warm, holiday feel. This one is definitely worth adding to the holiday reading list for preschoolers.

Publisher: HMH Books for Young Readers (@HMHBooks) Publication Date: September 23, 2014Source of Book: Review copy from the publisher

Colors versus Shapes is a companion to Mike Bolt's earlier picture book 123 versus ABC, and follows a similar storyline. In Colors versus Shapes, the colors and the shapes are each auditioning on stage to have the book be about them. The colors are basically irregular brightly-colored blobs, with faces, arms, and legs. Like less regular M&Ms. The shapes are white three-dimensional shapes, also with faces, arms, and legs (and white-gloved hands).

The colors think that they should be the stars because of the neat ways that they can combine and make new colors, and because of the sheer range of colors that can be created. The shapes also demonstrate the ways that they can combine, with two triangles merging into a square, and venture into the advanced world of irregular polygons. When an accidental encounter leads to a boldly colored, crisp-lined shape, however, the colors and shapes quickly realize the broad reach that they can have if they combine forces.

This is actually a more logical conclusion than the one in the first book - shapeless colors and colorless shapes are each clearly lacking something. The fact that they would be better off together is clear (at least to the adult reader) from the first page. But this doesn't make the book any less fun. The shapes shoot themselves out of a cannon. The colors high-dive into one another for blending. The whole thing is a crisply rendered, smiling-faced circus.

Sure, there are incidental learnings for kids about what the different shapes are, which are the primary and secondary colors, and how the colors combine. But I think the real appeal for young readers will be Boldt's joyous illustrations. Colors versus Shapes is a book sure to leave kids wanting to pick up their crayones, markers or paints, and start combining colors and shapes for themselves. Recommended, especially for preschool and pre-K ages.

I'm Brave! is the latest in a transportation-themed series by Kate & Jim McMullan. I remember I Stink! being a hit when it came out in 2002, but I have had only a passing familiarity with the books in between. I'm Brave! is the autobiographical story of a "big, red fire engine", full of tidbits about fire engines and their accessories, as well as many dramatic sound effects. Like this:

All of the sound effects (shown in various size fonts and colors) make this a fun book to read aloud with preschoolers. There's also some matching, where the engine lists accessories, and the child is supposed to match each item with its picture ("Shovels, mauls, ropes, flashlights, Halligan tools", etc.). There's not glossary, so parents may have to do a bit of research to help with these sections.

The brave firetruck's enthusiasm is contagious, and there are enough facts here to keep young firefighter buffs occupied for some time. I'm Brave! isn't my personal favorite type of picutre book (without much narrative structure, and the need to make lots of engine sounds), but I can see it delighting lots of kids. I'm Brave! is a sure-fire addition to any library's picture book collection, and a great gift idea for a child who has recently visited the fire station.

Telephone, written by Mac Barnett and illustrated by Jen Corace, is a humorous celebration of the distortion that happens when people pass messages along from one to the next. Well, except that it's actually birds passing along the message in this case. A collection of different types of birds (with clothing and other human paraphernalia) is stretched out along a telephone wire. A mother bird says: "Tell Peter: Fly home for dinner." As this message is passed from bird to bird, it becomes more and more different from the original request (though always making some sort of quirky sense). But when the message gets to the wise old owl at the end of the line, the owl is able to filter all of the distortion, and deliver the original message. This, I found to be a highly satisfying ending.

There's not much of a narrative arc to Telephone. But it's a fun little bit of nonsense that illustrates the way that people apply their own biases to messages that they pass along. It's the pelican, with lobster in beak, who hears: "Tell Peter: Lobsters are good hiders." A cap-wearing, tire-magazine-reading bird says: "Tell Peter: My monster truck has big tires." And so on.

Corace's watercolor, ink, and pencil illustrations celebrate the absurdity in the telephone messages. A sweaty, nervous turkey says: "Tell Peter: I'm too high up on this wire." The birds are all uniquely patterned, with expressive faces and memorable accessories.

I'm not sure how well this stream-of-consciousness story, which is basically one long joke, will hold up to repeat readings. But it's a nice, light-hearted introduction to the risks of the game of Telephone, with pictures full of details to please young readers. Definitely worth a look for libraries that server preschoolers.

Everything I Need to Know About Christmas I Learned from a Little Golden Book contains illustrations from picture books, but is not in and of itself a children's book. Rather, it's a compilation by Diane Muldrow, editorial director at Golden Books, of images from Little Golden Books published over the years, lightened with editorial commentary about the holidays. Like this:

"Christmas is the most wonderful timeof the year and all, but ...

(next page)

there's just so much to do.All that baking,the endless cycle of cooking and cleaning, ..."

The first part above is accompanied by a picture of Santa's sleigh taking off from a rooftop (from The Golden Book of Little Verse, 1952). The next page shows a mother doing laundry on one side (from The Happy Family, 1955) and a grandmother baking on the other (from The Gingerbread Man, 1953). And so on. In each case, the name, author, illustrator, and publication date are shown in tiny print at the bottom of the page. We are clearly meant to focus on Muldrow's text, and the pictures themselves, without dwelling too much on where they came from originally.

The text is a bit of an odd mix of snarky and not. From "Can we just call the Christmas season what it really is? Cold and flu season." to "When was the last time you went caroling?" and "don't forget to break for hot cocoa." Towards the end, Muldrow focuses on both the religious symbolism and the family-oriented aspects of Christmas. She closes with an image of Santa from The Night Before Christmas, and the word "Believe". Mostly, Everything I Need to Know About Christmas comes down on the side of mildly, but not overly, sentimental.

The illustrations, created by a wide range of authors, are an interesting window into the varied styles of Little Golden Book illustrators over the years. Some hold up better than others, of course, and most carry a nostalgic feel.

My four-year-old took one look at the cover of this book and said: "That book is for grown-ups, isn't it?". And it is. You could certainly read it with your kids, especially if you have read any of the included Little Golden Books together. But where I think it would be best-received would be as a stocking stuffer for Grandma, or anyone else old enough to cherish fond memories of the Little Golden Books of the 1950s.

Harper Collins has issued a new 25th anniversary board book edition of David McKee's Elmer. This is a slightly over-sized board book, with a bright patchwork cover, and my four-year-old (meeting Elmer for the first time) was unable to resist it.

For those who have not made his acquaintance, Elmer is the story of a patchwork elephant who stands out from among the other elephants in his herd. Elmer stands out not just because of how he looks, but because of his happy-go-lucky nature. He makes the others laugh. However, fearing that the other elephants are laughing at him, rather than with him, Elmer decides to disguise himself. But not to worry - Elmer's true nature, and eventually his true colors, shine through in the end.

There's a subtle message here about being yourself, of course. But I think that i has been around for 25 years because David McKee doesn't hit kids over the head with this message. Instead, he celebrates the delightful absurdity of a patchwork elephant, and the joy that all of the elephants have in witnessing a good joke. Elmer is also wonderfully bright and appealing for the youngest readers. At the end of the book, the elephants elephants decide to color themselves one day a year, in celebration of Elmer. The final spread is a riot of color and patterns. I challenge anyone to see it and not smile.

This new board book edition of Elmer would make pretty much a perfect holoiday gift for a toddler in your life, especially if accompanied by a stuffed Elmer. There's a reason that classics like this are still around. Elmer is a fun, bouncy sort of book, one with heart.

A Good Home for Max by Junzo Terada was originally published in Japan in 2005, and was brought to the US this year by Chronicle. It's the story of a mouse named Tabi who lives in "a little shop in a little town". Every night Tabi comes out of hiding to clean and re-stock the shop, paying special attention to the stuff animals. Tabi tries to help a particular animal friend, a stuffed dog named Max, to become enticing enough to be purchased. But every night, Max is still there, and the friendship between Tabi and Max grows closer. When Max isn't there one morning, Tabi has to leave the safety of the shop to make sure that Max is safe.

Terada's text is mainly straight-up narrative, without particularly advanced vocabulary or rhyming, and just a bit of dialog (only Tabi actually speaks). Here's a snippet:

"Tabi decorates Max with an inner tube in summer, because he'd be a good dog to play with at the beach ...

and a festive hat in winter, because he would be a good dog to play with in the snow."

Really, though, it's the illustrations that make this book special (Teresa is a designer and artist). Terada uses a muted color scheme and mixed media illustration style that makes the book look old, in a good way. Like the colors have faded a bit. There are repeated design elements, like patterns of cherries and identical ducklings, and patterned backgrounds, that add a certain cheerfulness. Tabi is the only character who really seems active, but we do see a change in Max's expression between the beginning and end of the book, suggesting that the stuffed animals are at least somewhat animate. It’s a distinctive style, different from most of the picture books that cross my desk, and one that catches the attention.

One tidit that I also liked was the presence of various signs and labels in French. For those who don't know French, it's reasonably clear from context what these things say. And for those who do know a bit of French, it's nice for practice.

A Good Home for Max is a celebration of the power of friendship, with an international flair, and an unconventional and appealing illustration style. It would make a lovely bedtime book for preschoolers, sure to have them dreaming of toys that come to life, and little mouse tidying up a shop overnight.

Waiting Is Not Easy! is the newest title in Mo Willems' Elephant & Piggie early reader series. In this installment, Piggie tells Gerald that she has a surprise for him. Gerald spends most of the book trying to figure out what the surprise might be, and then lamenting how long he has to wait. Of course in the end, the surprise is worth waiting for.

Willems perfectly captures the attitudes of young children. The very idea of a surprise is delightful. But actually waiting for something nice, particularly when you don't know exactly what it is, is not so easy.

The funniest parts of Waiting Is Not Easy! are several instances in which Gerald, impatient, lets out a loud "GROAN". Willems shows each groan as huge, black letter in a text bubble that flat-out knocks over Piggie ("OOF!"). This is the kind of playfulness that pleases young readers. My four year old laughed out loud, particularly enjoying the acceleration of the groans ("This time he REALLY knocked her over.").

As in the other Elephant & Piggie books, the appeal of the book stems largely from the way that Willems captures the feelings of Elephant and Piggie. The illustrations are minimal, but the expressions on their faces (particularly on Elephant's face) run the spectrum from delight to misery. My favorite illustration is one in which Elephant throws his arms joyfully into the air, saying "I CAN'T WAIT." Piggie leans in, smiling, but then points out "You will have to." We see Elephant's face go blank, even as his arms are still raised.

Waiting Is Not Easy! is sure to please fans of the Elephant & Piggie series. The minimal text, complete with visual cues, as well as the universal themes, makes this a fine choice for brand-new readers. But I am perfectly happy to share this one as a read-aloud to my daughter, too, because it is funny from cover to cover, and includes a gorgeous surprise, too. Highly recommended!

Mortal Heart is the final book in Robin LaFevers' fabulous His Fair Assassin trilogy. This installment is told from the viewpoint of Annith, fellow handmaiden to Death with prior protagonists Ismae and Sybella. As Mortal Hearts begins, Annith, who has spent her whole life preparing to serve the god Mortain, chafes at being kept at the convent, instead of being sent out on a mission as an assassin. When she learns that the Abbess intends to keep her at the convent forever, trained to be the Seeress who sends others out on missions, Annith rebels and escapes (though she still seeks to serve Mortain). Various adventures and revelations follow, as LaFevers brings the series to a conclusion.

I found Mortal Heart to have a nice balance of action and introspection. Annith is insecure in many ways, consumed with understanding her own place in the world, but she's also strong and capable. Like this:

"Keeping the knife clenched in my hand, I look up at her and allow every bit of anger and frustration I am feeling to show in my eyes. She blinks and leans imperceptibly back. Good, I think, then smile, a movement so brittle it is a wonder my cheeks do not shatter." (Page 57)

"And there it is. The threat I have lived with my entire life. I I am not good enough, kind enough, thoughtful enough, obedient enough, I will be cast from my home like a stunted fish from a fisherman's net." (Page 61)

"It is a terrifying thing to cross the sea at night, but I tell myself it is exhilarating. There is nothing but the glimmer of moonlight to steer by, and the sharp salt-scented breeze from the sea whistles past my ears, bringing a faint spray to my face." (Page 83)

I was pulled slightly out of the story by a reference that Annith makes to being asked to "run interference", which seems to me to be a more modern term than would have been used in 1489.But aside from this minor quibble, I thought that LaFevers continued her excellent job overlaying a real historical world and characters with a fantasy involving gods and special powers.

Mortal Heart has strong characters, a suspenseful, secret-filled plot, and an intriguing setting and premise. I found it to be a satisfying conclusion to a top-notch series. I highly recommend Mortal Heart for fans of the series. And, since the series is now complete, this would be a great time for new readers to immerse themselves in LaFevers' tale.

Publisher: HMH Books for Young Readers (@HMHBooks) Publication Date: November 4, 2014Source of Book: Review copy from the publisher

Pirate, Viking & Scientist, by Jared Chapman, is a lively picture book about a boy (Scientist) who is friends with both a pirate and a viking. Scientist has a great time launching cannons with Pirate and dancing with Viking. However, to Scientist's regret, Viking and Pirate are NOT friends. Their rivalry casts a shadow over the boy's birthday celebration, leaving the boy "uncomfortable." Being a scientist, however, he attempts to solve the problem. Will BIRTHDAY CAKE be the answer, or will this thorny problem take further analysis?

I quite adore Scientist. He's this tiny boy in a lab coat and glasses. His discomfort when his two friends are fighting is obvious. His determination to fix the problem is clear - tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. And when he gets out a chalkboard and draws his hypothesis (two unhappy friends + birthday cake = 2 happy friends), my inner geek cheers. Scientist doesn't give up, even when he is spattered with frosting, and his cake is ruined. He keeps trying new things, until he cracks the code.

Chapman's text is minimal. He uses short, punchy sentences, and leaves his vivid illustrations to fill in the details. So we have, across one page spread:

"Viking was boiling. Pirate was bloated.Scientist was irritated (and covered in cake).

Scientist studied his results.He didn't get the outcomehe'd wanted, but he wasn'tgiving up.

Maybe PARTY GAMES could help turn these foes into friends."

The party games can be seen in small sketches on the hypothesis chalkboard. The cake can be seen, well, everywhere. Viking is exaggeratedly broad-shouldered, with bushy facial hair and a Viking helmet. Pirate is skinny and ragged, with a bandana, a Pirate hat, and questionable teeth. The illustrations focus on the three characters, with a few props, and no real backgrounds. Instead, each page is shown with a faint graph paper background, perhaps a hint that a boy is drawing his own story. The end of the book, when the three now-friends all take to some "pillaging and plundering" is five-year-old boy heaven, with chaos everywhere.

Pirate, Viking & Scientist is a fun romp that includes a positive nod towards taking a scientific approach to problem-solving, set against larger-than-life, inherently cool characters behaving badly. The combination works, and should please both preschoolers and early elementary school children, especially boys. Libraries will definitely want to pick this one up. Teachers could even use it to introduce, in a very fun way, the concept of a hypothesis. Recommended!

Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers (@LBKids) Publication Date: November 11, 2014Source of Book: Review copy from the publisher

I moved The Iron Trial up on my to be read list after Tanita read it and loved it, having in turn been inspired by Charlotte. Tanita even said "that this series has the potential to be the American Harry Potter". So ok, clearly it was worth a look (and it was already right there on what I'll call my "to actually be read shelf", in contrast to the larger set of shelves which are more like "to be read if time somehow becomes infinite.").

Anyway, The Iron Trial is the first book in the new Magisterium series, the first collaboration between friends Holly Black and Cassandra Clare. I adored (though somehow did not review) Black's Newbury Honor-winning Doll Bones, and have also enjoyed Clare's Mortal Instruments books (of which I've read several but not all).

The Iron Trial is about a boy named Callum (called Call). When Call was an infant, his mother, along with a slew of others from the magical community, was killed as part of a war with a powerful mage called The Enemy. Call was the lone survivor of the massacre, left with a badly damaged leg and a father who no longer wanted anything to do with magic. When Call turns 12, however, his father is required to take him to the Iron Trial, a test to see if Call will be admitted to The Magisterium, a school where young mages are trained. Despite Call's best efforts to fail, he is admitted to the school. There he makes friends, and learns things about both magic and himself.

The Iron Trial is a book that keeps the reader guessing, as most things are not what they initially seem. The plotting is strong and suspenseful, and the ending is ... fabulous. Which is all I'll say about that. The tone is atmospheric without being overly gloomy. The Magisterium is set in a series of mysterious caves, filled with delightful details, such as food that looks like lichen and moss but tastes wonderful. There are boats that navigate underwater rivers, and dangerous creatures called elementals. It's a unique and interesting setting. I can already picture the movie (a little bit). The magic itself has logical rules, and requires hard (and sometimes tedious) work.

Call is a sympathetic character, one who grew up lonely and picked on, at least in part because of his disability (his leg). He is a bit of a troublemaker:

"Callum Hunt was a legend in his little North Carolina town, but not in a good way. Famous for driving off substitute teachers with sarcastic remarks, he also specialized in annoying principals, hall monitors, and lunch ladies. Guidance counselors, who always started out wanting to help him (the poor boy's mother had died, after all) wound up hoping he'd never darken the doors of their offices again." (Page 6)

Call's relationship with his two team members (the only three students from their year with a particular teacher) develops slowly and reasonably plausibly (downright prickly at first). There is some diversity among the students, though this is not a major focus. Call's limitations from the problem with his leg are addressed, and not glossed over. The authors do include some humor, too. For instance, when Call finally receives his clothes from home (he didn't expect to be admitted, so hadn't brought them), we have:

"After so long with only the two uniforms, it was awesome to have a bunch of clothes to choose from. Part of him wanted to put them all on at once and waddle through the Magisterium like a penguin." (Page 132)

Suspenseful plot, brooding atmosphere, unique setting, intermittent humor, and sympathetic characters. The Iron Trial has it all. This is an excellent choice for middle grade fans of fantasy, or anyone else who enjoys well-written, original reads. Highly recommended. I look forward to future books.

Mr. Tweed's Good Deeds is a combination seek-and-find and counting book by Jim Stoten. Mr. Tweed, as he is strolling about his town, keeps running into people who have lost items that are important to them. Seeking to help, Mr. Tweed assists each person. First there is one lost kite, which readers are asked to help look for in a busy park scene, then there are two lost kittens in a garden, and so on. All the way up until the last search, in which the neighbors give Mr. Tweed a party to thank him, and the reader searches for ten presents.

For me, the message in this book (about helping people) is a tiny bit heavy-handed (particularly when the whole town turns out for a party to celebrate Mr. Tweed's good deeds).

Here's an example of the text:

"It feels good to help people," Mr. Tweed thought to himself, as he left the park.He was passing by some cottages when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Tibbles? Timkins? Where are you both?"

Oh no, Mrs. Fluffycuddle's kittens have escaped and are hiding somewhere in the garden? Can you help Mr Tweed and Mrs Fluffycuddle find 2 kittens over the page?"

We continue hearing about how Mr. Tweed feels "very happy to have helped so many people already", etc., as the book progresses. But I suspect that for parents who wish to use fiction to encourage their kids to help others, Mr. Tweed's Good Deeds will be well-received. It's certainly not a bad message.

Anyway, what I do like about Mr. Tweed's Good Deeds is the combination of counting book and seek--and-find. Stoten's stylized illustrations are quite busy, and the book is challenging as a seek-and-find. The images seem to me to get slightly more difficult as the book progresses, too, even as kids are also being challenged by having to find more items.

Stolen's illustrations aren't quite as madcap and silly as those of, say, Brian Biggs or Richard Scarry. But they are populated by a combination of people and (frequently clothed) animals, and are chock full of realistic details (the booths at a farmer's market, a swimming pool full of rafts and floats, etc.). I can see these images providing hours of seek-and-find entertainment, along with a bit of humor, and a bit of counting practice.

To those looking for a new seek-and-find book, as well as some practice in counting objects, Mr. Tweed's Good Deeds fits the bill. And if you want a book that shows your kids how great it is to do things for other people (and how you may eventually be recognized and appreciated for this), it works for that purpose, too. It's a nice, solid, sturdy book, too, with raised letters on the cover, and a certain charming quirkiness to the pictures. Definitely worth a look!

John Rocco's Blizzard is the story of New England's Blizzard of 1978, from the author's remembered childhood perspective. It is simply wonderful. Of course, the fact that I, too, remember the Blizzard of '78 may be coloring my experience of the book. But I am pretty sure that it would still be delightful, even if you had not experienced a week off from school, and 15 foot snowdrifts, personally.

Like the author, I remember digging snow forts, and struggling to get across the deep snow. I also remember walking down the middle of the street, when cars were not allowed but some minimal amount of plowing must have been done, to get to my dad's hardware store. I remember jumping off the wall behind our house, down into the drifts in the much lower property behind us (where there could have been anything beneath the snow, but we didn't think about that at the time). In my memory, it was paradise.

But you're here to hear about John Rocco's Blizzard, not mine. Blizzard is a day-by-day tale of the Blizzard of '78 from the perspective of a Rhode Island boy. The text is direct and authentic to the viewpoint of a 10-year-old. Like this:

"The wind whipped upand schoolclosed early.

By the time my sister and I got home,the snow was already over our boots."

and:

"By day four, the plows still hadn't come.I wondered if we'd ever see grass again."

When the family runs out of milk, it's a problem because hot chocolate made with water just isn't satisfying.

Rocco includes lovely visual touches. The passing days of the week are picked out in the snow, with animal footprints. On a page where the boy wonders if the snow will ever stop, we see a STOP sign, with snow drifted up to cover the bottom of the letters. In various illustrations, observant readers will see that the boy is reading a book on "Arctic Survival." The family's house is cozy and warm, in contrast to the cold, white outside. The tunnels and igloos that the kids build are appealing enough to make any child wish for a huge snowstorm.

Best of all, the boy gets to be a hero, strapping on tennis racket snowshoes and journeying (rather indirectly) to the local store. A fold-out map shows his shoe-prints, with annotations like "MADE AN ANGEL." It's an epic journey in a safe landscape. The safety is reinforced when we note that one of the store workers is on the phone saying: "Yes, he's on his way back now."

There is a nostalgia to Blizzard, not just because this particular blizzard took place more than 35 years ago. The boy stops to see if his neighbors need anything from the store. The family gives hot chocolate to the (eventual) snow plow drivers. The boy's sled is red metal and wood, not slick plastic. Rocco reinforces this nostalgia through the use of sepia-toned colors in some of the indoor scenes.

But I still think that modern kids will appreciate Blizzard. Building snow igloos and jumping off of snowdrifts is timeless, after all. As, I hope, is the idea that a 10 year old can be a brave explorer. Blizzard gets my highest recommendation. I can't wait to share it with my daughter.

Gumballs: A Mr. and Mrs. Green Adventure, is an early reader that tells a story, while also illustrating the concept of estimation. All in a six-year-old-friendly package. Mr. and Mrs. Green are an alligator couple (also featured in several other early readers), distinguishable from one another by their different neck-wear.

In Gumballs, Mr. and Mrs. Green come across a contest to guess the number of gumballs in a jar. Mrs. Green takes a guess. But Mr. Green estimates based on the number of gumballs that he thinks would be in a cup, and the apparent size of the gumball jar. Incidental concepts illustrated thus include conversion (number of cups to a gallon) and multiplication. But the math doesn't really get in the way of the story. Readers will share in Mr. Green's delight in the contest, and the appreciation that both Greens have for gumballs.

Gumballs uses short sentences and frequent colorful illustrations, to keep the text accessible to new readers. For example:

"At home, Mr. Green stretched out for a nap.

Mrs. Green began to paint--she was inspired by all the gumball colors.While she painted..."

Small pictures show Mr. Green napping and Mrs. Green painting. There are a few trickier words, like "inspired", but I think that kids will be able to figure them out from the context of the story.

Now, as a person with a fairly extensive math background, I found it a bit implausible that Mr. Green's estimation method was able to come up with exactly the correct number of gumballs. I am unable to stop myself from sharing this gripe with my daughter when we read the book. But she doesn't care. And my pleasure in finding an early reader that is about numbers and estimation outweighs this minor criticism.

Baker's acrylic paint illustrations are bright and energetic. The gumballs lend a particular joie de vivre to the book. Mr. Green's dream of a gumball galaxy is especially appealing.

All in all, Gumballs is an early reader that I am more than happy to read with my child (no small statement - many of them are tedious for adults). I look forward to seeing other books in the series. Recommended for home, school, or library purchase.

Publisher: HMH Books for Young Readers (@HMHBooks) Publication Date: August 5, 2014Source of Book: Review copy from the publisher

Superfab Saves the Day by Jean Leroy and Bérengère Delaporte is a kind of spoof of a superhero story. Superfab is a superhero who is obsessed with costumes. He spends so much time selecting the correct superhero outfit for each occasion that by the time he arrives, someone else has already saved the day. Eventually, people stop calling him. One day, however, a monster comes whom the other superheroes cannot defeat. Superfab manages to save the day because of, rather than in spite of, his fashion sense.

This is a classic trope, of course, in which the hero is able to triumph precisely because of what had hitherto been seen as a liability. And you, the reader, may one day find that the things that make you unique are valuable, even if they don't seem so on the surface.

What I like about Superfab Saves the Day is the way it makes this point while quietly defying gender expectations. Superfab, a male, is determined to be "the best-dressed superhero". He triumphs because the gloves that he made himself are so "SUPER" that a big ugly monster call the Destroyer covets them. How validating for the young boy who cares about his appearance more than society might deem acceptable. And yet, this is conveyed straight up as Superfab's story, without that off-putting feel of some adult writer attempting to wedge some particular message into a child's head. Well done!

Here's a snippet, to give you a feel for Leroy's writing style:

"Everyone got tired of Superfab always being late.They called him less and less, and then they stopped calling him at all.

Superfab became super-sad."

I kind of want to read this aloud in a "Valley Girl" voice. "Super-sad." Superfab also has a "SUPER cellphone."

Delaporte's illustrations have a hand-drawn, youthful look, rather as though a kid was creating his or her own superhero story. Superfab, in orange slipper and undies with hearts on them, is shown against minimalist backgrounds - the characters being dominant. His cluttered, shopping-bag filled living room quietly fleshes out his priorities.

There's a gently subversive feel to Superfab that I think will please adults, while probably going right over the heads of young readers. This is a book to appreciate more on subsequent reads, as the details that build up Superfab's personality are reiterated. Recommended for anyone who would like to be able to save the day precisely because of the things that make him or her unique.

Mr. Putter & Tabby Turn the Page is the latest title in Cynthia Rylant and Arthur Howard's extensive series of early readers. The first book in this series, Mr. Putter & Tabby Pour the Tea, was published in 1994. My daughter and I were introduced to the series by a friend whose children read them several years ago. My four year old and I both quite enjoy the Mr. Putter & Tabby books. We have a few, and frequently bring others home from the library. They are the sort of early readers that are perfectly pleasant to read aloud (unlike some which are just too tedious for parents to enjoy). This is no small thing in my household, where reading "chapter books" together makes my daughter, who can only read a very words, feel grown up.

In Mr. Putter & Tabby Turn the Page, we learn that the elderly Mr. Putter enjoys reading aloud to his cat, Tabby. When he sees a sign at the library asking people to "Read aloud with your pet at Story Time", he is, while a bit nervous, unable to resist. He become a bit more nervous, however, when his best friend, Mrs. Teaberry, signs up, too. Mr. Putter fears that Mrs. Teaberry's dog, Zeke, may get carried away. Zeke does indeed wander off in search of food in the middle of the Story Time, but it all turns out ok in the end.

Things I love about this book:

It's about Story Time at the library.

It celebrates the fact that Mr. Putter and Tabby enjoy their quiet time at home reading together.

It reinforces the very different nature of Mr. Putter and Mrs. Teaberry's personalities.

Here's my favorite part (to that third point):

"After he signed up, Mr. Putter made a mistake.Mr. Putter told his friend and neighborMrs. Teaberry about signing up.He forgot that Mrs. Teaberry loved anything new.Anything.

She learned new hobbies.She made new friends.She cooked new food.Mrs. Teaberry liked new."

This is accompanied by a picture of Mrs. Teaberry singing happily in a band called "The Zeekers", as well as one of a plate of "Cauliflower Cookies." These details are sufficient to entertain any reader, I think, and exactly highlight Mrs. Teaberry's personality. Another wonderful illustration shows Mrs. Teaberry reading to the kids, wearing a flower-bedecked baseball cap that says "I (heart) My Library", while Zeke howls (making the sound effects for the book).

But the real heart of this book is Mr. Putter, tucked up in bed in striped pajamas, with Tabby on his head, reading a book. The Mr. Putter & Tabby books are timeless early readers with real personality. That's why they are still being published today, 20 years after the first book. Mr. Putter & Tabby Turn the Page is a wonderful new installment to a fine series. A must-purchase for libraries, and a welcome addition to any new reader's bookshelf.

Publisher: HMH Books for Young Readers (@HMHBooks) Publication Date: November 4, 2014Source of Book: Review copy from the publisher

The Infinite Sea is the second book in Rick Yancey's Fifth Wave series. The Infinite Sea begins a few days after the events of The Fifth Wave (STOP here if you have not read The Fifth Wave), as Cassie, Ben, and the remaining survivors from Ben's unit wait in a crumbling hotel to see if Evan Walker (human/alien hybrid) has survived the destruction of Camp Haven. Tough girl Ringer sets out on her own to assess some caves, where the team hopes to be able to hide and stay warm for winter. Given the bleak world of the Fifth Wave, it should come as no surprise to readers when danger and destruction find both parties.

The Infinite Sea is fast-paced and action-packed, set against a cold midwestern winter. A shocking prologue gives new insight into the depths to which the enemy will go to destroy the remaining humans. Answers to some of the questions left dangling at the end of the first book are gradually revealed, while others surface. A dangerous new enemy appears, as well as a potential love interest for Ringer. There are deaths, and there is one sexual interlude (though the details are decidedly vague, in a good way). The deaths are not as painful for readers as they might be, because Yancey's characterization is the tiniest bit thin, particularly for non-viewpoint characters.

The Infinite Sea does suffer a little bit from middle book syndrome (is that a formal thing?). The premise isn't as exciting as it was in the first book, yet things also are not fully wrapped up. This is, to some extent, inevitable. I think that Yancey managed the pitfalls pretty well, including dropping one significant bombshell near the end of the book. and leaving readers with one happy surprise.

I don't tend to flag as many passages when I read on Kindle as when I read in print, but here are a couple of highlights:

"It was simple. It was complex. It was savage; it was elegant. It was a dance; it was a war. It was finite and eternal. It was life." (Chapter 8, Ringer musing on chess)

"It's all connected. The Others understood that, understood it better than most of us. No hope without faith, no faith without hope, no love without trust, no trust without love. Remove one and the entire human house of cards collapses." (Chapter 12, Cassie)

"He abandoned any attempt at stealth and hit the highway, loping down the center of the road, a solitary figure under the immensity of a leaden sky. A murder of crows a thousand strong whipped an wheeled over him, heading north." (Chapter 27)

As these passages show, The Infinite Sea isn't all action. It's also a book that asks (though it doesn't always answer) profound questions. The questions are why I have been eager for Book 2 ever since finishing Book 1. I was not disappointed.

The Infinite Sea is a book that you shouldn't start unless you have a clear chunk of time in which to utterly immerse yourself. And you certainly shouldn't start it unless you have read The Fifth Wave first. In fact, I listened to The Fifth Wave immediately prior to reading The Infinite Sea, so that all of the details would be fresh for me. I have no doubt that this contributed to my enjoyment of The Infinite Sea. I look forward to the final book.

The Story Starts Here! by Caroline Merola is a picture book about breaking the rules. We learn this when we pick up the book the way one normally would (spine to the left) and see a back cover instead of a front cover. It says, in big letters, "The Story Ends Here!". Smaller letters encourage the reader to turn the book around. Sure enough, starting from the back of the book (turned so that the spine is to the right), we begin Little Wolf's story.

Little Wolf is feeling contrary, and is annoyed with his parents, who expect him to do things the conventional way. Sent to his room, he runs away. In the woods, however, he encounters a creature that appears scary. At least until he turns the book the other way around, and finds a familiar figure.

In interacting directly with the reader ("You! Flip the book upside down and turn the page. That page."), The Story Starts Here! takes a page from Herve Tullet's Press Here, and other recent titles. However, apart from a couple of interactions, this book focuses mainly on Little Wolf's story.

Merola's textured illustrations use slightly abstract backgrounds, and keep the primary emphasis on Little Wolf, the most crisply rendered figure in the story. He has a mischievous look about him that matches well with the story.

The Story Starts Here! is a light, fun picture book that I think will appeal to any preschooler who has ever chafed against doing things the regular way. I'm guessing that would be ... nearly all of them. Little Wolf wants to play the piano with his toes, and start a new pants-on-head fashion. His cry of: "I can't do anything around here!" will surely resonate. The rule-breaking format of the book, while a bit of a gimmick, will also appeal to kids. The Story Starts Here! would be a particularly good addition for libraries or classrooms serving preschoolers.

The Misadventures of Sweetie Pie is, like Chris Van Allsburg's well-known titles Jumanji and The Polar Express (and others), a text-heavy picture book. But unlike the aforementioned titles, The Misadventures of Sweetie Pie is a mostly realistic, small-scale story, told from the perspective of a slightly grouchy hamster.

Sweetie Pie (so named by his first owner) is passed from child owner to child owner as kids initially play with him, and then become bored. He suffers humiliation (as shown in the cover image) and (mostly benign) neglect. He is eventually lost and found, and becomes a classroom pet. But it is in Sweetie Pie's last adventure that Vaan Allsburg introduces a touch of magic (following a near-death experience that may be sad for the youngest of readers).

The Misadventures of Sweetie Pie is told from the hamster's limited third person perspective. Like this:

"One afternoon Sweetie Pie awoke to find that his cage had been moved. Something else rested in its place. Pigtails sat in front of it for hours at a time.

The girl didn't ignore him completely, though. Each morning she dropped extra-lage handfuls of food into his bowl."

The illustrations reveal that the "something else" is a computer, and that Sweetie Pie becomes fat and lazy, eating all that extra food.

I think that The Misadventures of Sweetie Pie will inspire kids (some of them, anyway) to actually think about things from the perspective of their pets, and perhaps be a bit kinder. It's not so much that anyone is ever mean to Sweetie Pie, but he is certainly bored and lonely. (Only until near the end of the book, not to worry.)

Van Allsburg's watercolor, pen and ink, and colored pencil illustrations are delightful. We see Sweetie Pie's grumpiness in some situations, and feel his fear when a barking dog knocks his cage to the ground. His annoyance when dressed in a pink doll dress is priceless. Despite having a lot of text, The Misadventures of Sweetie Pie in no way skimps on the illustrations, with at least one full-page picture on every page spread. The scale of the illustrations, some from Sweetie Pie's perspective, give the book a larger-than-life feel.

I can't wait to share The Misadventures of Sweetie Pie with my four-year-old, though I think that the real sweet spot for this book will be with first and second graders. This would make a fabulous classroom read-aloud for that age group, but would also, I'm sure, be a welcome holiday gift for home use. The Misadventures of Sweetie Pie is strong on story and on illustration - a wonderful contribution to the world of fiction picture books.

Publisher: HMH Books for Young Readers (@HMHBooks) Publication Date: November 4, 2014Source of Book: Review copy from the publisher

Blue Lily, Lily Blue is the third book in Maggie Stiefvater's Raven Cycle Quartet. Although I am a huge fan of Stiefvater's novels, I had a bit of a mixed reaction to this book. I adore Stiefvater's writing - her ability to come up with just the right turn of phrase. I flagged many passages of Blue Lily, Lily Blue.

And yet... It took me three weeks to read this book, which is a very long time for me. Part of this was because I didn't take it with me when I went away for KidLitCon. But most of this was because I would fall asleep every night after reading just a few pages. Blue Lily, Lily Blue is a lovely character study, but the plotting is a bit slow-paced. Usually when this happens - when I am falling asleep repeatedly over a book, and thus not getting any reading done - I will abandon the book. I never considered abandoning Blue Lily, Lily Blue, because I did enjoy the characters and the writing quality, but I was, at least in part, relieved when I finally finished it.

Anyway, Blue Lily, Lily Blue is the latest installment of Stiefvater's Raven Cycle, after The Raven Boys and The Dream Thieves. (Spoilers here for books 1 and 2.) School is about to begin for Blue Sargent as well as for her friends from the nearby Aglionby private school. Blue's mother is missing, her mother's hit man boyfriend Mr. Gray is under threat from his former employer, and the chemistry between Blue and Richard Gansey III (aka Gansey) is building. Their friends Adam, Ronan and (ghost) Noah are fighting their own demons, literal and metaphorical.

The teens, with some assistance from Blue's relatives, Mr. Gray, and a Welsh professor with anxiety issues, seek to find Blue's mother, now tied to their quest to find the Welsh King, Glendower (whom they believe has been sleeping somewhere nearby for 600 years). Adam is channeling Cabeswater (a magical forest), and Ronan is bringing things from Cabeswater to life via his dreams, and struggling to better understand his gift. Blue, Gansey, Adam, and Ronan are closer than they've ever been, despite some romantic and interpersonal conflicts.

There is a lot going on in Blue Lily, Lily Blue. And yet, Stiefvater takes her time, delving in detail into actions and motivations. She has constructed a odd world, the mystical overlapping and intertwining with the real, peopled with characters who are each extraordinary. I flagged many passages - here are a couple of favorites:

"The students kept coming in. Adam kept watching. He was good at this part, the observing of others. It was himself that he couldn't seem to study or understand. How he despised them, how he wanted to be them. How pointless to summer in Maine, how much he wanted to do it. How affected he found their speech, how he coveted their lazy monotones. He couldn't tell how all of these things could be equally true." (Page 80)

"She tossed the knife into the sink, where it would remain until it died. Piper was not much for housework. She had a very narrow skill set. She drifted toward the bedroom, on her way to have a bath or take a nap or start a war." (Page 87)

"Then she smiled as if the woman had already helped her. If there was one thing Blue had learned while being a waitress and dog walker and Maura Sargent's daughter, it was that people generally became the kind of person you expected them to be." (Page 107)

Despite the pacing being, for me, a bit slow, I do think that fans of Maggie Stiefvater's Raven Cycle will enjoy Blue Lily, Lily Blue. There are some intriguing revelations as Blue and her raven boys continue their quest to find Glendower. Every character (including those not quite human for one reason or another) stands out, crisply drawn against a dream-filled world. If you haven't read any of the books in the series yet, my advice would be to wait until all four books are available, and immerse yourself in the world of Aglionby and Glendower. But if, like me, you can't resist pulling Blue Lily, Lily Blue onto your lap the moment it arrives, well, enjoy!

Circle, Square, Moose is a companion book to Z is for Moose, by Kelly Bingham and Paul O. Zelinsky. The premise for both books is that a narrator is trying to teach teach something (shapes, in Circle, Square, Moose), until said narrator is interrupted by a wayward Moose. Zebra attempts to tame Moose's bad behavior, but this only makes things get more out of hand, until the poor narrator just gives up.

Circle, Square, Moose is just as funny as Z is for Moose. The goofy, determined Moose and the worried, cap-wearing Zebra's escapades are sure to entertain kids. And there is useful information in the book about shapes, though one has to remain a bit focused to read it. My favorite bit, I think, is when the narrator is using a sandwich to illustrate "square", and then Moose steals the sandwich, and chomps it into a triangle. A memorable way to think about transitions between shapes.

This book is made to read aloud. Even though I was alone the first time I read through it, I still read it aloud. The narrator's protests are increasingly vehement, and call for dynamic vocalization on the part of the reader. It's a bit disjointed, sure, with interruptions to the narrative flow on every page, but it's pretty much the perfect combination of entertaining and informative.

Zelinsky's mixed media illustrations capture the playfulness of the story, and Moose's irrepressible spirit. The variety of fonts and colors makes the book fairly busy, a daytime read rather than a quiet bedtime book.

Circle, Square, Moose is more a book to read with slightly older kids than to read aloud to toddlers (who won't get the joke). But for pre-k listeners and up, Circle, Square, Moose is sure to be irresistible. I do think it's more of a one-on-one book than a group storytime book, though I would be interested to hear otherwise. In any case, Circle, Square, Moose is a surefire hit. Recommended!

Charlie Bumpers vs. the Shrieking Skull is the third title in the Charlie Bumpers series of illustrated chapter books, written by Bill Harley and illustrated by Adam Gustavson. I have not read the first two books, but didn't find this to be a problem.

Fourth grader Charlie is excited when a friend invites him to a Halloween sleepover. He expects trick-or-treating in Alex's more upscale neighborhood to be more lucrative than usual, and he looks forward to NOT having to take his little sister out with him. But when Charlie learns that Alex plans to show a VERY scary movie that night, his enthusiasm wanes a bit. Luckily(?) Charlie's older brother undertakes a de-scaring regimen, to help Charlie learn not to be so frightened of scary stories.

Charlie Bumpers vs. the Shrieking Skull seems well-suited to newer readers who are ready to move past easy readers and into chapter books. There are black and white illustrations sprinkled throughout the book, some woven in with the text. The chapters are fairly short (~3-6 pages), and the text spacing is wide. I didn't notice much in the way of challenging vocabulary.

Charlie's fears and interests seem authentic for a fourth grader (and accessible to readers a bit younger), though his personality is perhaps a tad idealized. There's a scene near the end of the book in which he admits his fears to his friends, and is supported,that didn't quite read as authentic to me. Nice, but not quite authentic. But I am probably more cynical than members of the book's target audience.

Apart from that one point, I found Charlie Bumpers vs. the Squeaking Skull to be an enjoyable read, with a nice balance of Halloween-related drama and ordinary family and school interpersonal dynamics. Charlie's working mom is too busy to help him with his costume, and he has to make it at school. His older brother delights in scaring him. His younger sister complains and complains when he reveals his plan to not take her trick or treating, but clearly adores him. His dad likes to tease, threatening to go trick-or-treating in his underwear.

Here are a couple of quotes:

"Right!" said Tommy, getting more excited. "The bigger the houses, the bigger the candy bars! Then maybe we'd have to carry extra bags for when the first ones got filled up. That would be stupendous."

"Terrific!" I said.

"Stupific!" Tommy said.

"Stupific!" I repeated. "That's hilarious." (Page 4)

Then they proceed to use "stupific" throughout the rest of the book.

"Sure," I said. The plan sounded a little crazy, but when your best friend wants to be a werewolf, you help him be a werewolf." (Page 103)

Gustavson's illustrations add some detail to the characters that is not necessarily revealed in the text (like the fact that Tommy seems to be African American). They also add to the Halloween creepiness of the book, by bringing to life Charlie's brother's scary story, the cover of the scary movie that the kids are supposed to watch, and so on. The little sister comes across particularly well in the pictures, adding an extra touch of warmth to the story.

Charlie Bumpers and the Squeaking Skull is a fun and age-appropriate book for second through fourth graders, perfect for reading during this Halloween week.

Harriet Can Carry It, by Kirk Jay Mueller and Sarah Vonthron-Laver, is the story of a hard-working kangaroo mom whose attempt to take a day off to relax with her son is derailed by other animals. All Harriet wants to do is take her Joey, with some towels and the boy's favorite toy, to the beach. But she meets a series of pushy animals along the way, all expecting Harriet to carry their gear in her pouch. Eventually, they push poor Harriet too far, and she gives up. Fortunately another solution is found by the others, and Harriet and her Joey get their time alone).

Mueller's text is mostly in rhyming couplets, with the notable exception of Harriet's attempts to protest, which are always cut off. Like this:

"It was old Wanda Wombat, so nosey and grouchy,Asking, "That a beach towel hanging out of your pouchy?Can I come to the beach? Can I come with YOU?Will you carry my beach chair? Can I please come too?"

"W-e-l-l," Harriet hesitated."I don't know--"

"Of course I can," answered the pushy Wombat"You have lots of room. You have loads of spaceFor tons of stuff in your big pouchy place.The sun is so bright. The ocean's so blue.YOU CAN CARRY IT, HARRIET, so I can come too.""

This text is repeated, with minor variations (different types of animals, different types of gear, different adjectives for the pushy Wombat), throughout the book. The animals are all Australian natives, mostly marsupials, as is explained in a handy "Animal Facts" glossary at the end of the book. I wasn't aware that "Australia has about 200 species of marsupials." Of course most of them probably don't have beach towels and kayaks in their pouches. Still, it's nice to see an introduction to different types of animals from the usual bears, elephants, giraffes, etc.

I also appreciated Mueller's use of descriptive vocabulary words like "trudged" and "bossy". And while Harriet Can Carry It has not a whiff of didacticism, one could use it to discuss that with kids the idea that it is ok to say no when people are making unreasonable requests.

Vonthron-Laver's watercolor illustrations are bright and colorful, conveying the heat of a summer's day, the green of the countryside, and the exhaustion of poor Harriet. Her lumpy pouchy, with various beach items sticking out, will resonate with moms everywhere (the designated toters of family items). Harriet Can Carry It made me want to go to the beach, with nothing but a book and a towel.

Harriet Can Carry It is an entertaining picture book that introduces kids to marsupials in a light, yet memorable manner. It would make a fun read-aloud for schools or libraries. Recommended.

Flora and the Penguin is a companion book to Molly Idle's Flora and the Flamingo. In this installment, young Flora is skating, apparently on an ice floe, when a little penguin comes up out of a hole in the ice. Flora and the penguin skate/dance together quite happily, until the penguin returns below the surface of the water, and comes back with a fish. Flora's initial rejection of the fish (she tosses it back into the hole) nearly ruins their budding friendship. But luckily, Flora is able to redeem herself, and the friends ice dance together again.

Flora and the Penguin is a wordless picture book with occasional flaps to lift. The illustrations, set against a white (the ice) and pale blue (the water, shown in profile below the ice) background are minimalist. Most of the story is conveyed through the facial expressions and, especially, the body language of Flora and the penguin. We see Flora, after she has thrown back the fish, lift her head and turn away in arrogant denial of wrong-doing. Then, lifting a flap, we see her peer back towards the penguin, remorseful. Personally, my favorite images where those of Flora and the penguin skating together, hand in flipper, graceful and free.

Those who enjoyed Flora and the Flamingo will be pleased to see Flora back in print for another adventure. Fans of wordless picture books in general (and I know there are many) will want to give Flora and the Penguin a look. It is not necessary to have read the other book first. Flora and the Penguin is a celebration of winter and ice, as well as friendship.

Bad Dog Flash is a picture book aimed at toddlers and preschoolers, about the antics of a puppy named Flash. Each pair of page spreads follows Flash getting into some sort of mischief, concluding with a pronouncement from the grown-ups of: "Bad dog, Flash." Only at the end of the book, when a little girl holds Flash, is puppy-like behavior greeted with "Good dog, Flash."

Paul's minimal, lightly rhyming text makes this book accessible to the youngest of listeners. Bad Dog Flash could also be used as a very early reader. Here's an example, spread across four pages:

"Still cat,dull cat.

Fast cat, fun cat.

Run cat!

Bad dog, Flash."

The fact that each incident is going to end with "Bad dog, Flash" is clear early on. My four-year-old enjoyed chiming in with that part, starting on our first read-through of the book. This predictability should help keep younger children engaged in the story. I think that preschoolers will also be able to relate to Flash, whose enthusiasm and energy get him into unwitting trouble.

Flash's expressions are those of a hapless toddler, too, in Paul's warm illustrations. When he's caught digging up the garden, you can practically hear "Ooops. This wasn't a good idea" as he looks up at a wagging adult figure. The adults are always shown from the neck down (or lower), keeping the focus on Flash and his actions. Only the child owner, shown near the end of the book, has a face (a smiling, loving face). The backgrounds that Paul uses on most of the page spreads are minimalist, and this again serves to keep the focus on Flash.

Parental warning: Flash is cute enough to entice young listeners into wanting a dog of their own. The cover is quite engaging, too, showing Flash chewing on the three-dimensional letters of the title.

Bad Dog Flash focuses on kid-appealing mischief, with just a hint of sentiment at the end. This makes it a perfect fit for preschoolers, especially those who love dogs. Recommended for home or storytime use.

Virginia Bergin's H2O is a young adult novel about an apocalypse that occurs when rain turns deadly, leaving only 0.27% of the population alive. I have mixed feelings about this book. I found the first-person narrator, Ruby, off-putting, and her chatty narrative style (with many diversions) annoying. And yet ... I couldn't put the book down, and consumed it in record time.

The plot of H2O carries echoes of various other apocalyptic survival stories (the loss of the immediate family, the quest to find a lost relative, the teaming up with someone who one would never have teamed up with before, the presence of authority figures of questionable intent, the shopping in empty stores and scrabbling for food, etc.). There's a reason these elements are found in so many apocalyptic stories - they are compelling, and keep readers turning the pages.

But I think that what hooked me with H2O was the sheer menace of the premise. Imagine if a single drop of rain could kill you. Imagine that the tap water, not to mention lakes and swimming pools, is corrupted. You would learn, as Ruby does, to be an expert at watching cloud formations. But eventually, someone, somewhere would have to figure out a longer term solution. Wouldn't they? There's only so much bottled water out there, after all... So, H2O made me think, and Ruby's near constant peril kept me turning the (virtual) pages.

Here are a couple of sample quotes, to give you a feel for Ruby's voice:

"I was sitting in a hot tub in my underwear kissing Caspar McCloud. Ha! That also sounds like a great beginning, maybe from some kind of kiss-fest romance, or maybe Caspar would turn out to be a sexy vampire." (Chapter One)

"All those people's lives--on the coffee table, in one long, neat row. People (like Simon) go on about people (like me) and not being able to be apart from their cell phones. They're missing the point; it's not the cell phone--it's the life that's in it you don't want to be apart from...even when they don't work anymore." (Chapter Twelve)

""Bye!" I shouted, which I thought was very charitable of me, considering. Charitable and also a further sign of how serious the situation was: girls like me don't even acknowledge the existence of boys like Darius Spratt. It's a basic law of nature." (Chapter Fourteen)

That last quote gives you a bit of insight into Ruby's character. She's run into a boy from school who is a bit of a nerd, and she just can't let go of their social differences. In the middle of an apocalypse. She's vain (constantly looking for makeup and cool clothes, in the middle of her travels) and selfish. Now, the target audience of actual teen readers might be able to relate to Ruby better than I did, of course. And she does try to do the right thing here and there, and improves over time. But overall, Ruby's voice didn't work well for me.

And yet, on another level, it did work for me. I could picture, and practically smell, Ruby's surroundings. She does not shrink from talking about things, even disgusting or embarrassing things. She reveals her flaws and her insecurities. She is loud and out there and alive. I was impatient with her digressions because I wanted her to get on with the story. I wanted to know what would happen next. I was invested.

So, if you like apocalyptic survival stories - ones that tell you exactly what someone was going through during and immediately after the disaster, H2O is one to check out. It has many of what have become conventions of the genre, and the narrator is (in what may be a refreshing change for some), not particularly heroic. But the premise is compelling and downright creepy. I don't think I'll ever look at rainclouds the same way again.

The Right Word: Roget and His Thesaurus is a picture book biography written by Jen Bryant and illustrated by Melissa Sweet. The publisher lists it for ages 7 and up, which seems about right to me. It's quite dense, and full of lists and historical tidbits that make it likely over the heads of younger readers. But for elementary age kids, and adults for that matter, particularly those who appreciate words and lists, The Right Word is simply a delight.

This book made me smile, and it made me want to go out and get an old copy of Roget's thesaurus, from back before it was even arranged alphabetically. It enabled me to picture the young Peter Roget, a lonely, bright boy who always loved lists. The Right Word made me feel like I knew him. And that is a successful biography.

The Right Word describes Peter's life, from early childhood through his publication, late in life, of his Thesaurus. There is a mix of narrative text, poems, and information conveyed through the illustrations (including comic strip-like panels). And, always, throughout the book, there are lists of words. Afterwords by the author and illustrator explain where the included information (especially the illustrations) came from. There is a timeline that mingles events from Peter's life with world events of the same time periods (separating the types of events by color).

Somehow, this mix of Bryant's text and Sweet's annotated collage illustrations evokes emotion in the reader. One feels for Peter, and rejoices in his eventual success. Or I did, at least. Like this:

"When Peter moved back to London,he joined science societies andattended lectures given by famousthinkers and inventors. Before long,he was asked to give lectures too.

But could he do it? Could shyPeter Roget face a crowded roomand talk about what he knew?

(next page)

Yes, he could.

With his book in hand, Peter spoke concisely,with clarity and conviction!"

Sweet's illustration of this second page shows Peter standing, proud without being vain, in front of a group of black-robed men who are whispering about him. There's a mix of old-fashioned setting with cartoon-like faces keeps the book accessible to young readers.

Even the cover of The Right Word is appealing, with a worn book cover showing at the bottom of the page, looking like soft leather, and a host of images from various fields of study and periods of time spilling out from between the pages at the top. The Right Word celebrates that power of words, and the lasting contribution of the man who created Roget's Thesaurus, still in print today. It is a wonderful picture book biography and a must- purchase for libraries and word-lovers everywhere.

Publisher: Eerdmans Books for Young ReadersPublication Date: September 15, 2014Source of Book: Review copy from the publisher

The Forbidden Flats is the second book in Peggy Eddleman's Sky Jumpers series (my review of Book 1 is here). Both books are set in a relatively near-term post-apocalyptic American West. One of the oldest adults remembers the pre-apocalyptic world, but most characters were born afterwards. Only small, spread out communities survive, with no means of communication between them.

The Forbidden Flats begins with an earthquake, which sets off a reaction that threatens the survival of the sheltered town of White Flats. A small team is sent on a mission to procure a mineral that will, if obtained in time, fix the problem (and save the town). The mineral is only available from a far-off settlement in the mountains. Among the members of the team are Hope, the 12-year-old heroine from the first Sky Jumpers book, and her two friends, Aaren and Brock. This high-stakes quest, particularly because there is a firm time constraint before disaster occurs, lends suspense to the book.

Once nice thing about this second book in the series is that Hope (and thus the reader) gets a chance to see much more of the world than in the relatively sheltered first book. I always enjoy it when, in post-apocalyptic books, characters run across artifacts from modern day life. In The Forbidden Flats, Hope and the team visit people who live in the ruins of pre-apocalyptic cities. Hope sees things like asphalt for the first time in her life.

Eddleman's world-building for this series remains sharp - she has a strong grasp of what is the same and what is different from our own world. What comes across in particular detail in this new book is the impact of the apocalypse (environmental bombs) on the minerals in the earth. There are minerals newly created by the blasts, and other things that used to work that don't anymore. In particular, iron can no longer hold a magnetic charge, which greatly restricts and resumption of technology. This makes for an intriguing sub-quest in the book, one that I expect will be continued in future stories.

The Forbidden Flats also fleshes out the character of Hope in more detail. She meets her uncle, the brother of the mother who died immediately after Hope's birth. Learning more about her mother, and getting to know her uncle, gives Hope some insights into her own character. There are a couple of other interesting new characters, too, one of which I suspect we'll see again.

But I do have to say that I felt that the existing secondary characters came across as a bit flat in this installment. It felt like I was supposed to remember what was special and unique about Aaren and Brock, rather than being able to see this through their words and actions. This stood out for me in particular because there's the tiniest hint about a romance brewing between Hope and Brock, but Brock feels like a bit of cipher. My feeling is that even if a book doesn't need to stand on its own in terms of plot and world-building (it may be necessary to have read the first book to understand what's going on), the characters should stand on their own in each book.

Overall, though, The Forbidden Flats is a worthwhile successor to Sky Jumpers. The plot is suspenseful and full of twists, and readers get to learn more about the broader world in which Hope lives. Although the plot in this book is fully resolved, I see plenty of directions in which Eddleman can go in future books. Fans of the first book will definitely want to give this one a look. The Sky Jumpers series is nice in being a middle grade (vs. YA) post-apocalypse series, one that does NOT revolve around a dystopia, but instead shows people working together to build a new world.

Publisher: Random House Books for Young Readers (@RandomHouseKids) Publication Date: September 23, 2014Source of Book: Review copy from the publisher

Unmade is the conclusion of Sarah Rees Brennan's Lynburn Legacy trilogy, following Unspoken and Untold. I read a lot of books, but the Lynburn Legacy series has stayed in my head more than most. I think this is due to a combination of Brennan's strongly rendered Gothic tone, and her deep characterization of primary and secondary characters.

The Lynburn Legacy series is about a teen named Kami who lives in an English town historically ruled by the Lynburn family of sorcerers. When the Lynburns return after an absence, and one of them goes very bad (and power-mad), Kami finds herself defending her family and her town against impossible odds (but with a strong team of supporters, including two Lynburn teens).

I hesitate to say too much about the plot of this third book, for fear of spoilers for the other two. So I will merely say that Unmade picks up following the cliffhanger ending of Untold, and takes heroine Kami through some dark times. A couple of the twists in Unmade shocked me, and were painful because I cared deeply about the characters. If I could have, I would have read this book straight through without once putting it down.

What more can I say? Rather than a formal review, I will give you a few comments:

Kami rocks. She is strong and determined, and doesn't let even major losses stop her from doing what is right. She has a keen sense of self, but is also plausibly insecure (e.g. about whether people find her less attractive because she is of mixed race, in a very white village).

Jared Lynburn, Kami's love interest, also rocks. He is unconventional and brittle, the survivor of a difficult upbringing. A particular bonus of this third book was watching his developing relationship with his snooty aunt, Lillian Lynburn.

Lillian also rocks. She is not a nice person, but she is fiercely loyal, and cuts to the heart of things. Her reluctant banner with Kami's non-magical dad is priceless. Here's my favorite quote from Lillian: "I don't believe in telling children comforting lies. It lets them delay growing up. I want to lay all possible choices before my children, so they can decide what to do." (Of particular note about this quote is a certain ambiguity about who she means by "children", since only one of the kids in the book, Ash, is actually her biological child.)

Brennan incorporates diversity into Unmade, seamlessly and organically. There is a character coming to terms with wanting a lesbian relationship (and associated introspection/insecurity about that), as well some diversity or race and class, all tackled head-on.

Another nice thing: while not taking over or saving the day, parents play a significant role in the book. Here's Kami on that subject: "The first thing to do was slip away from her father, who might have questions about why she kept insisting on going back to the lair of ultimate evil. Kami saw why so many teenagers who had adventures in books were interestingly tragic orphans. Parents were a real buzzkill, adventure-wise." (Page 201) Kudos to Brennan for incorporating parents without killing the books's buzz.

I think that fans of Sarah Rees Brennan's Lynburn Legacy trilogy will find Unmade to be a satisfying conclusion to the series. And for those who have not read these books, if you enjoy darkly atmospheric, supernatural YA romance, the Lynburn books are not to be missed. Highly recommended!

Publisher: Random House Books for Young Readers (@RandomHouseKids) Publication Date: September 23, 2013Source of Book: Review copy from the publisher

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